The Lion's Lady
by Cheshire6845
Summary: A different take on the Killing Game. Seven really is a spy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** No infringement is intended. I simply enjoy the universe that these characters inhabit.**

**Notes:**** Written for the VAMB Secret Santa '09 Exchange. This started with the single thought of "What if (in Killing Game) Seven really had been a spy?" And then it just kind of morphed from there. Many thanks to QS my beta extraordinaire, you're awesome!!  
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**The Lion's Lady by Cheshire**

The man emerged from the shadows in the alley. "What news do you have?"

"Tomorrow morning I am to buy a high frequency oscillator. It will extend the range of their radio."

"Where?"

"A house just past the third bridge. It belongs to a Monsieur Goulot."

"Goulot," he noted. "After you leave, we'll make our own visit to his home."

An orange flame flared into existence, and the woman moved it closer to her face, lighting a cigarette. "Why not go tonight?"

The flame reflected off the ornamental metal she wore on her face and he wondered again why she wore it. "It will help your standing in the cell to return with the part they need. We need to maintain their trust."

She exhaled a breath of smoke. "They suspect nothing; they are trusting fools."

"Do not under estimate them." He regarded her closely. "Especially the leader. She is cunning."

"Katrine." She said the name as though it were a curse. "I grow tired of her giving me orders. She believes herself superior."

"Not for much longer. Her time will come."

Mademoiselle LeNeuf stubbed out the cigarette. "When?"

"Soon," he assured her. "The Kommandant has already given the order."

* * *

_"Maybe you're right about her."_

_"The evidence is increasing. She was present today when our courier was shot down in the street, yet somehow, she was unharmed. And now, on the eve of our liberation, she becomes uncooperative."_

_"Leave this to me."_

Katrine stood in the darkened alleyway, staring out at the dimly lit cobblestone street. The light from the gas street lamp was faint but she was glad she'd already discarded her jacket. Her white ensemble clashed garishly with the darkening street enough as it was without adding the sequenced lapels for the light to reflect off of. The Coeur de Lion was closing, and for the moment St Claire was quiet as all the reasonable citizens settled down for a peaceful night. Idly, she flicked ashes from the cigarette she held loosely in her right hand. She'd heard the back door of the Coeur de Lion open quietly moments before, and now she listened to the soft step of Brigitte's shoes against the hard stones of the alley as the woman made her way to Katrine's side.

They stood silently side by side for a few minutes before Brigitte spoke up. "I don't trust her, Katrine."

The hardened resistance leader smiled slightly, reaching up to undo the bow tie she wore around her neck and unbutton her collar. "I know."

"Do _you_ trust her?"

Katrine took a long drag on the cigarette, holding the smoke in her chest for a moment before exhaling. "We'll see what happens tonight."

Brigitte kicked at the ground. "It should be me that's going with you."

Katrine cast a sidelong glance at her young friend. "I'm trusting you to take care of things here if something goes wrong."

The young woman nodded a bit sullenly. Everyday Katrine hated the fact that Brigitte had taken it upon herself to get involved in a relationship with a Nazi bastard. She couldn't deny the valuable intelligence it had garnered them, but the price was more than any member of the resistance should have to bear. "Are you doing all right?"

Brigitte was caught off guard by the question, instinctively running her hand over the considerable bump at her midsection. "I'm fine."

"Is there anything you need?"

"No, of course not." Brigitte looked down. "Like I said, I'm fine."

Katrine took a last drag on the cigarette before tossing it down and crushing it out beneath the toe of her shoe. "You should go back inside. We wouldn't want to be accused of breaking curfew."

Brigitte turned to head back towards the door but stopped when she realized Katrine hadn't moved to join her. "Are you coming?"

Katrine tapped another cigarette out of the small case she carried. "Not yet."

Brigitte watched her turn into a doorway and carefully light the cigarette, shielding the open flame from the light breeze of the alley. "Watch your back out there tonight."

Katrine nodded. "I intend to."

Brigitte walked the few remaining steps to the door and pulled it open. She took one more long look at the pale silhouette of her leader. The woman that had saved her from certain death two years previous was obviously capable of handling herself, but Brigitte had a bad feeling about tonight's operation. She felt sure that the earlier death of their baker friend was a bad omen, but premonitions and superstitions were not things Katrine believed in or wanted to hear about. Seeing the small cloud of smoke form at the end of the alley as Katrine exhaled once again did not help Brigitte's nerves. Katrine only smoked before they undertook dangerous operations, claiming the smoke helped her think. Brigitte knew it also steadied her nerves and gave her something to do when all the planning had been done and there was nothing left to do but wait. She sighed and closed the door; Katrine had never been good at waiting.

Katrine glanced at her watch again and nodded to herself. They still had a few hours to go, but she should get changed. The street had become deserted while she had thought through her decision. If LeNeuf made a single mistake tonight, she'd have to kill her. There were just too many things that weren't adding up. And the loss of their courier was at the top of the list.

Katrine had only taken a moment to mourn for him. Anything more would be a distraction, and that was something she could ill afford tonight. When the war was over, she'd take the time to mourn for all those she had lost. But for now, she dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out before turning to head inside. It was only then she saw the two soldiers making their way up the alley from the opposite end.

She didn't panic. She'd seen several two-man patrols walking through the square every evening, but still, she hadn't seen them in the alleys before. Surreptitiously, she moved one hand to the small of her back and cursed at herself when she realized she hadn't brought her pistol with her. She put a smile on her face. "Good evening, gentlemen. I'm afraid you're a little late. We've already closed for the evening."

The soldiers did not reply as they continued to stalk towards her, their boots now making a hard staccato sound as they grew closer. As they passed the door to her establishment and kept coming, Katrine took a step back, moving towards the mouth of the alley and the open street. Behind her, she heard movement and spun around to find herself face to face with two of the large deformed soldiers she'd only recently begun seeing around town.

Her old friend Remy had hypothesized that the brown pockmarked soldiers were some sort of super soldiers that were a result of German self experimentation. Whatever they were, she hated them as much as she hated the pretty blond-haired blue-eyed Nazis. She especially hated the way the new Kommandant's solid black eyes had bored into her from across the table as if he was looking into her soul. Just as the ones that stared coldly at her now were doing.

There was a muted thwop sound as something hard struck the back of her head. A pained grunt escaped her lips as she fell against the wall, sliding down it as the dark cold eyes tracked her movement, their owners making no move to catch her. The side of her face hit the hard stone of the street. She didn't lose consciousness though as pain blossomed across the back of her skull and small bits of gravel dug into her cheek. She groaned and grabbed reflexively at her head, hoping like hell that no one inside had heard anything. She didn't want them coming out and getting captured, too. There were voices above her and although they sounded muffled to her throbbing head, she understood part of what they were saying. _LeNeuf_. Katrine managed to lift her head and glare up at the four soldiers.

"So, she _is_ a traitor?" Her voice was a growl. Now she knew. It was too late to do anything about it, but at least she knew. One of the super soldiers made a quick gesture, and she saw both of the other soldiers shift their rifles. The butt of a gun sliced quickly through the air and a sickening crunch echoed in her ears. The pale street light on the corner swam in her vision before fading completely into darkness.

* * *

Brigitte sat silently fuming, glaring at the blond woman behind the bar. It was all her fault. After thirty minutes had passed and Katrine had still not come back inside, Brigitte had gone back outside to look for her. All she had found was now clenched in her fist. The white bowtie Katrine had loosened from around her neck had been lying on the ground. It was hardly white anymore. Dirt and grime stained it light brown in spots, but the spots of dark brown were what concerned Brigitte more. Remy had argued that they couldn't prove that the dark spots were blood and that, even if they were, they didn't know if it was Katrine's, but his logic had sounded hollow. She didn't think that he even believed himself. They all knew that Katrine would not have gone down without a fight, and it looked as though that fight had drawn blood.

And to top it all off, they were now another person short for tonight's crucial mission.

No one had bothered suggesting LeNeuf go by herself to set the explosives. Remy was going to go with her, and Brigitte didn't really expect the blond to return. As usual, Remy appeared impassive, but she knew his emotions for Katrine ran deep. Brigitte only wished that it would be her pulling the trigger tonight when LeNeuf's treachery was exposed, but she was still going to stay behind. It was her job to destroy all evidence of the resistance if they failed in their mission tonight. And that outcome was beginning to seem all the more likely with every passing hour.

* * *

The Alpha had to duck slightly as he came down the worn steps into the small underground room. The single bare light bulb that hung from the ceiling barely produced enough light to fill the room. A flood lamp had been brought in for illumination, but it was not yet turned on. For the moment and for the current purposes, the single bulb was enough. Enough for the Alpha to be able to see the hard earthen floor, the damp stone walls, and a lone set of shelves with a few dusty bottles along the far wall.

And it was more than enough to see the single figure sitting slumped on a chair in the middle of the room.

He circled the unconscious human female, studying her. Her solid white outfit was now soiled in places with dirt, and dried blood stained the shirt collar below her hair line. There was also some bruising around her jaw despite the report that she'd only been hit on the back of the head.

She'd been the captain of this vessel before he'd taken it over. Janeway. A curious Alpha. He'd thought it pitiable at first that these humans had chosen a female as their Alpha, but he'd learned to grudgingly respect her as prey. He had, of course, bested her in every scenario he'd put her in, the Vulcan Time of Awakening, the Crusades, the fall of Rome, but still, he was almost saddened that when she awoke this time she'd no longer be the leader of this recreated French resistance.

No, this time when she awoke she would once again be the leader of the human resistance on _Voyager_. The irksome holographic doctor had somehow managed to "awaken" several of the humans, and the Alpha assumed that Janeway would no doubt be one of the ones the doctor would have chosen to "free". It was a shame, really; he had looked forward to this hunt playing out as the history had indicated.

A rumbled explosion sounded in the distance and he knew he should be going, but Turanj could handle the humans for a few more minutes without him. He wanted to see her expression when she woke to find herself still trapped.

He gestured to the two holographic officers that were in the room with him. "Wake her."

With a curt nod, the closer officer snapped his fingers towards the small set of stairs. Two more men, obviously lower in rank, came in the room, both carrying buckets that sloshed water onto the floor. One man set his down while the other glanced at the officers for confirmation before reaching back and throwing the contents of the bucket at the woman.

A wall of water cascaded over her still form, and she gasped in shock, her head shooting up from its slumped position. Her stunned reaction was almost enough to tip over the chair she was tied to, but it settled back onto four legs just as the glaring light of the flood lamp snapped on, effectively blinding her as she blinked rapidly against the water and the light.

The Alpha felt his pupils constrict. The corner he stood in was darkened by the new flood of light, and he knew she wouldn't be able to see him, but he could see her perfectly. He could see the slight movements of her arms and legs as she pulled at the ropes binding her to the chair, and he could see the shift in her muscles as she tested the strength of those bindings even as she continued to feign confusion. "Why have you brought me here?"

There was a shiver in her voice that the Alpha felt was probably real enough. The room had already been cold before she'd been soaked to the skin. He gestured with his hand for the holographic officers to continue their routine.

"What is your name?" the first one demanded.

"My name?" she repeated, still blinking water out of her eyes. "You know my name. You come into the bar every ni–"

A hard slap across her face. "Answer the question."

The slap had snapped her head to the side and she slowly, methodically brought it back to center before answering the demand. At this measured and controlled response, the Alpha had the distinct impression that this was not the first time this prey had faced interrogation.

"My name is Katrine...Katrine Joulin."

The Alpha straightened. She was still playing the game. But why? Surely, the holographic doctor had freed her from the implant's control.

Oblivious to the discord, the Nazi officer continued his interrogation. "What is your occupation?"

"I run the Coeur de Lion," she answered, eying him balefully. "You order two whiskeys every night as your first drink and you ensure that you have a good view of Mademoi–"

Another slap. "We know who you are, Fraulein, and it is _not_ some simple barkeep. Now tell us about the Resistance."

Her head hung down, and she chuckled darkly. "Is that what this is about? The _Resistance_?" She raised her head to the questioning officer. "There is no resistance in St. Claire. You've got it wrong–"

The officer's hand flew out again, a backhand rocking across her face, but then the officer stood back as the Alpha stepped away from the shadows, placing a heavy hand on the woman's shoulder. He felt her tense under his touch, and he was pleased that she hadn't known he was there. She tried craning her neck around to see who he was, but he gripped her jaw roughly, keeping her head turned away from him as he ran a small instrument over the scar on her neck. She groaned slightly as his fingers dug into the bruised flesh of her jaw. The instrument he held beeped, signaling its findings, and the Alpha was pleasantly surprised with the results.

Not only was Janeway's implant still working, it had been damaged, most likely when the Nazi soldiers had subdued her, and it was now fused to her spinal cord. He snapped the scanner closed and pocketed it; he would be able to finish this game after all. Nothing short of a surgical procedure would disengage Janeway from the scenario now.

The Alpha released the hold on her jaw, pushing her head away as he circled behind her. He could hear the pulse of her heart increase and her respirations become shallower. She hadn't yet been able to see him, and it worried her. His nostrils flared and he breathed deeply, smelling fresh blood in the air. That last backhand across her face had ruptured the delicate skin around her mouth, and his blood raced at her distinct scent tingeing the air in the small room.

With deliberate movements, the Alpha came to stand in front of the human captain. He stood directly in front of the light, forcing her to look into its glaring brightness if she wanted to see his face. As she strained to see him, he saw the thin line of red that now stained her chin and felt the blood lust burning inside him at the sight of it.

"K-Kommandant?" she asked, squinting up at him, forcing herself to look up at the light and still only being able to make out his outline.

"Yes," he said and took a step to the side, allowing the full force of the light to hit her. She flinched and closed her eyes against it. Now she'd be able to see even less. He began to circle her, knowing his movements would add to her unease. "Once again, you were excellent prey, _Captain._ I enjoyed the hunt, but your rebellion is now over."

Still blinking rapidly, she repeated his unusual phrases. "Captain? Prey? I don't know–"

One of the officers lurched forward, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back to silence her. "You do not speak when the Kommandant is speaking."

"Release her!"

The officer looked surprised at the Alpha's terse command, but immediately let go of Katrine and stood back.

Part of the Alpha was really tiring of these human recreations. Inferior beings that suffered from unjustified, inflated egoism. He reached out and skimmed his hand down Katrine's face, enjoying her flinch at his touch while noting again the darkening bruise he saw along her jaw. "I was told she had been struck in the back of the head," he ran his hand through her hair as he spoke to his officers, "and yet I see bruising along the side of her face. Tell me, how many of you did it take to subdue this one female?"

The officers exchanged a guilty look between them before one managed to stutter out a response. "Sh-she resisted, sir. We had to–"

"How _many_ did it take, Kapitan?" he growled.

"Four, sir."

"_Four_?" he repeated, the disgust evident in his tone. "And were any of them hunters?"

Again the man paused before answering. "Y-yes, sir. Two, sir."

"I shall have to speak with them," the Alpha muttered, more to himself than anyone else in the room. He was still stroking his hand along Janeway's neck, enjoying the feel of her pulse.

More than once over the past several days he'd kept his hand on her neck as the lifeblood from her body had pooled beneath her until she'd lost consciousness. That was actually his favorite part. Seeing the look in her eye as her body betrayed her will to live. Feeling the pulse in her neck fade from frantic and strong to stuttered and faint. He'd always called sickbay before it was too late, but watching the light in her eye fade was as close to coming to the kill as he allowed himself to get with her. One day he would make the kill complete, but for now he was still looking forward to hunting her in more of the programs he'd found. She was..._intriguing_ prey.

Releasing the hold he had on her, he questioned the officers. "Now that you have her subdued, what are your intentions?"

The officer that had spoken the most swallowed nervously. "We know the location and members of her cell, but as their leader, this one has information our source did not. Information that could lead us to others of her ilk."

The Alpha nodded. "And you believe this information is worthwhile to our cause?"

"With her cooperation, we can disrupt the Resistance for the entire region," the second officer spoke up with a nod towards Katrine.

"You can go to hell," Katrine growled, drawing angry looks from the two officers.

The Alpha regarded her curiously. "And you believe that you can...convince her to give up this information?"

"Of course, sir." The two men both nodded confidently.

The Alpha circled Janeway, regarding her and the words of the holograms. He was, of course, familiar with the concept of torture and interrogation, but as Hirogen so very rarely had cause to use such methods, he was curious. "Very well. Conduct your questioning." He watched Katrine take in a deep breath and straighten at his words. "But I alone will make the kill, do you understand?"

The officers answered in unison. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Chakotay was running out of patience, and there was nothing he could do about it. B'Elanna was working as fast as she could and he knew that, but it didn't make waiting any easier. Resisting the urge to ask her again for an update, he instead looked out across the small bar where they had taken up residence for the time being.

Seven and Tuvok stood at the bar, working together to determine if the holographic explosives could be enhanced. The two of them had woken from the mind control to find themselves pointing guns at each other. Apparently, the timing had been a close thing. Chakotay found it fortunate that it had been the two of them to awaken in such an awkward position as neither of them found it logical to reflect further on the situation. They'd simply dismissed the incident and immediately begun working together to find the others.

Chakotay wasn't so sure that if he'd woken to find Tom holding a gun on him that he'd be able to dismiss it quite as easily.

Luckily, that hadn't been the case as he and Tom had apparently been on the same side. They'd simply stared at each other in confusion for a minute before confirming that neither had any idea what was going on. They'd called for the end of what they assumed was a holodeck program, but nothing had happened. At that point, one of the holographic soldiers huddled in the darkened street with them had reported that all units were in position and awaiting orders. That hadn't done much to make the situation any more understandable, but before Chakotay could question the soldier further, gunfire had erupted all around them and all hell broke loose.

Soldiers swarmed past his and Tom's crouched positions, returning fire at unseen assailants as explosions rocked the buildings of the small town. One soldier hurriedly pointed out a street front cafe that he said was the coordinates for the Resistance before swearing and moving past them. Chakotay had had no idea what he meant by "Resistance" but felt the building was their best chance of being able to take a minute and figure out what exactly _was_ going on. Walking into the building, which turned out to be a bar, had almost gotten he and Tom killed again as a very confused but pissed off B'Elanna had been in the building wielding one of the ancient firearms quite effectively.

Chakotay glanced over his shoulder again at B'Elanna, who was still working furiously at one of the control panels they'd managed to find within the simulation. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her how she was doing when sparks flew out of the panel, causing her to swear and lean away from it before diving back in again. The considerable baby bump was not helping the Klingon's disposition at all, and she had already sworn that, as soon as she accessed the controls, her holographic pregnancy would be one of the first things to disappear. But Chakotay was more concerned about the people they hadn't found yet and how they'd managed to be in this situation in the first place.

Tom had answered some of their questions when he'd gone out on a patrol with one of the holographic soldiers, suggesting that he was the best suited to go out and interact because he was at least familiar with the scenario. He'd been the one to bring back Tuvok and Seven as well as Ayala and Jarvin, although the latter two were still completely immersed within the program and continued to call Chakotay "Captain Miller". It seemed that, so far, for whatever reason, only the senior staff had been released from the control of the program.

Another piece of information that Tom had brought back with him was who they were fighting. Hirogen. This information at least matched up with the last thing any of them could remember. Seven related to the group that she had been on deck three when she'd been shot in a phaser fight. B'Elanna could remember being in engineering when the sealed doors had exploded inwards. Tuvok had been in the armory, and the last thing Chakotay could remember was being on the bridge with Tom, Harry, and Kathryn.

They'd all had their phasers drawn and had taken up defensive stances when the bridge had erupted in weapon's fire. They'd held their own for a few minutes, but at the same time he saw Tom fly backwards; Chakotay had felt a weight fall against his back. He'd immediately turned to try and grab for the weight that was sliding towards the floor, knowing that it was Kathryn, but he'd been too late. Pain had erupted in his chest, and Kathryn's pain-filled blue eyes had locked with his as they'd both fallen to the deck. Shadows had moved above them, kicking phasers away from their grasp, and he'd been close to passing out. He'd barely been able to reach out a hand when Kathryn was hauled away from his side. The last thing he could clearly remember was seeing Kathryn being held up by a hand around her throat and hearing a rough voice shout a command. _"KasKree!"_

At the time he'd hoped the alien phrase had meant "stop", but for all he knew it could've been someone's name. And now all he wanted was to find Kathryn. There were too many of the senior staff in the simulation for her to not be here somewhere as well. Surely, the Hirogen would _want_ to hunt her. She was the captain after all. A resilient prey that had opposed them.

But would their desire to hunt a worthwhile prey have been enough to save her from becoming a trophy for their bulkheads?

"I've got sensors!" B'Elanna's shout immediately got his attention, and he returned to her side as she poured over the panel. "Whoa...there's eighty-five Hirogen on board," she read off the panel, "with the majority of them being on decks two through nine."

"What about the bridge?" Chakotay asked.

B'Elanna took a minute. "Four Hirogen...and Harry!"

"Well, now we know how the mind control wore off," Tom commented, standing next to Chakotay's side. "Harry must've done it."

"While Mister Kim's skills are exceptional, your conclusion is not logical," Tuvok said, joining them. "We do not even know if we were under 'mind control'."

Tom rolled his eyes. "What about everybody else, B'Elanna? Where are they?"

Chakotay's chest tightened. "Where's the captain?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "There's over a dozen human life signs registering on the holodecks aside from ours. Without the comm. badges, I can't pinpoint if one of them is the captain or not." She huffed out a laugh. "But I can tell you there is one Talaxian in the other holodeck."

"I wonder if Neelix knows who he is," Tom commented.

"Tom, use the jeffries tubes and go over to the other holodeck," Chakotay ordered. "If Neelix or anyone else over there knows who they are, bring them back with you. To get out of this, we're going to need to work together."

"Ahhh...that's better."

They all looked back to B'Elanna to see the holographic baby bump had disappeared. Chakotay nodded. "Better. B'Elanna, see if you can figure out a way to talk to Harry. I'm sure he could tell us more about what's going on than we're going to find on our own."

"Seven believes that she can enhance the rudimentary explosives that we currently have, but she must travel to the cargo bay to retrieve supplies," Tuvok added.

Chakotay nodded. "Go with her."

Tuvok left, leaving Chakotay standing alone while B'Elanna worked behind him. "Torres," he clapped his hand on her shoulder, "I need you to find a way to talk to Harry, but I also need you to find the captain."

She heard the gravitas in his voice and saw the concern in his eyes; she nodded gravely. "We'll find her, Chakotay. We'll find her."


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

Katrine really wanted to sit up. In fact, it was number one on her list of things to do because being facedown in wine-soaked dirt was not the most pleasant sensation she'd ever experienced. Not to mention that lying on her side was doing horrific things to her battered ribs.

Another explosion sounded outside, and dust from the low ceiling rained down on her, but she could tell this time the impact was further away. She almost felt like smiling as she felt the dust land on her cheek. That dust had probably saved her life.

_Thankfully, the Nazis hadn't been very imaginative in the short time they'd questioned her so far, but that didn't mean that their blows had not been punishing. Katrine's left eye was almost completely swollen shut, and she was pretty sure her jaw was broken, but those injuries felt somewhat numbed. The body blows, however, were wreaking the worst pain. The simple act of breathing had become excruciatingly painful. The two Nazi officers had not been pleased when she'd laughed at them for looking up nervously after a nearby explosion shook dust from the ceiling. The retaliatory kicks for that faux pas on her part had been particularly nasty. _

_Now they were becoming hasty in their questioning. A punch, a smack, a question, and then barely a pause before hitting her again. In their haste to leave the basement, they no longer seemed to care if she actually answered them. Which was fine with her, really. She had no intention of giving them any information anyway. _

_A hard right cross connecting with her face had her and the chair falling over, and she grunted as she once again landed painfully on her bound wrists. Katrine tensed the muscles in her stomach, waiting for the lurching sensation of her chair being righted, but instead the toe of a boot sunk once again into her abdomen, followed by a boot heel slamming into her thigh. _

_As artillery shells continued to land nearby, the officers stepped back, conversing amongst themselves as Katrine lay on the floor panting. Rationally, she knew that, given time, they could break her. She'd seen it happen to others firsthand and knew the cruelty they were capable of, but for once, time was on her side. The shelling outside was being walked in, landing closer and closer to what she hoped was headquarters. The Americans were coming, and Katrine simply had to hold out long enough. The Nazis would probably kill her, but better to die than to give up the information they wanted. _

_Another artillery round shook the building they were in, and dust fell heavily from the ceiling, worrying the two officers enough that they decided it was time to leave. Katrine steeled herself for the sound of a pistol being unholstered, a sound that would herald her ultimate demise, but she never heard it. Instead, the ropes binding her to the chair were loosening and falling away. Her heart sank into her stomach; they were going to take her with them. _

_Apparently they were going to abide by the strict order the Kommandant had left about who would ultimately kill her, but she was damned if she was going to make it easy on them. The smaller of the two officers hauled her to her feet, growling in her ear that she had better play nice. Katrine had no intention of playing at all, and she slammed her head backwards, feeling a satisfying crunch of cartilage. It felt good to be the one giving pain for a change, even if it didn't last long. Wrenching herself free of his stunned grasp, she lunged for the other officer and managed to rake her fingernails down both sides of his face, tearing into the soft skin and leaving trails of red. The officer yowled in pain, shoving her away, and just that quickly Katrine's luck ran out. _

_The shorter man had withdrawn his pistol and, with blood streaming from his nose down his chin, he whipped the barrel of the pistol across her face. Katrine dropped to the floor, barely conscious, curling in on herself as a flurry of kicks rolled her across the floor. Glass shattered, and she felt a spray of liquid as the heady aroma of merlot filled the air. One of the men growled, and Katrine looked up into the face of devil himself. _

_Eight streaks of red lined the face that looked down on her. The officer she'd clawed held the broken neck of a bottle in his hand. He turned it slowly in his wine-soaked fingers, allowing her to see all of the sharp, jagged edges of the dark green glass. "I'm going to carve you up."_

_Katrine watched as a single drop of red wine fell from the end of one of the sharp tips. She knew it would be her blood that would stain the glass next. The other man hauled to her feet, wrenching her arms behind her, and despite the terror that thought shot through her heart, she refused to look away from the devil. "Go back to hell."_

_As soon as she'd hissed the words, the world outside seemed to explode. The entire building shuddered, throwing all three combatants to the floor. Her ears rang in a deafening silence as she covered her head with her arms. The entire room seemed to be swaying and dust choked the air. She watched in mute shock as the flood lamp fell over, its bright bulb smashing against the floor as the two Nazi officers scrambled past it and up the stairs. More explosions rocked the building, and she saw the dropped and apparently forgotten bottle neck on the floor in front of her. The shadow of it grew from side to side as the single bare bulb light swung back and forth on its short chain. Obviously fearing that the building was about to be brought down upon them, the two officers had abandoned her. She laughed silently as another blast made the ground beneath her tremble and more dirt rained down on her from the ceiling. But she was past caring as her body gave in to the punishment it had been dealt and dragged her mind down into the darkness of unconsciousness. _

But she was awake now, and she felt worse than she had before – and that was saying something. She should have moved while her adrenalin was still high, before now, when she could feel where each and every fist or boot had landed on her body. A crunch of glass sounded from the floor above her, and she swore at herself. Someone was walking around up there. She'd had a chance to get out of here and she'd missed it. If she died now, she deserved it for her sheer stupidity.

Another step sounded, followed by two low voices. Shit. They'd come back. Spying the broken bottle neck, Katrine reached out a shaky hand and wrapped her fingers around it, dragging it towards her and tucking it unseen against her body. She was still on her side with her back to the doorway. Usually not an ideal position, but this time she'd use it to her advantage. She might be able to get in one good slash before they realized she was conscious.

The footsteps were coming down the stairs now, and she tried to control her breathing, allowing herself to grimace unseen at the pain that simple action caused. The first boot hit the floor, and she heard a quick intake of breath before a shout startled her. "Captain, down here! I found someone!"

Katrine frowned, but before she could reflect further on the oddity of what she'd just heard, hands were pulling on her shoulder, rolling her body, and she instinctively lashed out with the only weapon she possessed.

"Hey! Whoa!" A strong hand caught her around the wrist, struggling with her. "Cut it out, lady! I'm trying to help you."

Now that she was turned on her back, Katrine could see her foe's face, and she stopped struggling against his grip. God bless him, he was wearing the rumpled OD green uniform of the Allies. She felt like laughing. "American?"

He gave her a quick nod, and she relaxed her grip on the bottle, letting him take it from her hand. Before he could say anything more, another American appeared at his side. Katrine stared with her one good eye at both of the soldiers. They could be brothers they were so alike in build.

"Captain," the newcomer asked, dropping to his knees at her side, "are you okay?"

Katrine frowned, noticing belatedly that his skin tone was darker than the other soldier's. Not brothers, she mused, but if she had her ranks correct, he was the captain, not her.

He reached out with his hand and gently pushed wet hair that was clinging to her face aside. "Kathryn, talk to me, please. Are you okay?"

His gentle touch felt really good, but she haphazardly tried to brush his hand away. "I'm fine," her words came out slightly slurred, "but my name's not Kathryn, Captain. It's Katrine."

He exchanged a look with the soldier next to him before repeating her name. "Katrine?"

"Yes," she said tiredly and began to push herself up. Both men immediately moved to help her. The room spun, and Katrine had to grit her teeth against the nausea before she was able to speak again. "I'm the leader...of the Resistance here in St. Claire. We're your allies."

She expected the captain to reply to her in some way, but a curious look that she couldn't quite discern was his only reaction.

"Ma'am, can you walk?" the other soldier asked.

"Of course I can walk," Katrine grumbled, although she wasn't entirely sure she could even stand yet.

"Captain, we need to get out of here," the soldier said, getting to his feet, "this building has been taking a lot of shelling, and it might not be stable for much longer."

Chakotay recovered himself and nodded his understanding to Ayala. Grasping Kathryn by the arms, he pulled her to her feet as he stood. He was glad he'd still been staring at her face in concern, or else he may have missed the slight roll of her eyes just before she collapsed against him. She groaned as he caught her, easily lifting her into his arms. Her head fell limply against his shoulder, and he could feel her warm breath against his neck. He jerked his head towards Ayala. "Get us back to the command post, Corporal. This woman needs medical attention."

Ayala, still believing he was actually in France, nodded and started up the stairs, rifle at the ready with his commanding officer right behind him. Chakotay looked down into Kathryn's bruised and bloodied face and hoped like hell B'Elanna had thought to bring the doctor into their program.

* * *

Tom pushed open the hatch of the jeffries tube and found himself staring into the barrel of a gun. He swallowed dryly. "Uh…I come in peace?"

B'Elanna lowered the weapon. "It's about time you got back."

"Well, I had to wait–" he heaved himself out of the hatch and stopped dead when he saw B'Elanna. He pointed at her once again rounded middle. "You weren't pregnant when I left."

She scowled at him. "Don't remind me." She pushed him out of the way so she could close the hatch. "We got the captain back."

"That's great!" Tom said, following her out from behind the bar. "But that still doesn't explain why you're pregnant again."

"She's...not exactly herself right now."

"Oh." Tom's face fell. "You mean she's–"

Torres nodded. "She still thinks she's the leader of some Resistance that's fighting against an army. Since this building is the coordinates you and Chakotay had for the Resistance, and this is where you found me..."

"You're part of the Resistance," Tom finished for her. "And she thinks you're pregnant."

"Or at least she will when she wakes up," B'Elanna nodded. "She was beat up pretty bad when she came in and was kind of out of it. Chakotay and the doctor took her upstairs to a bedroom."

Before Tom embarrassed himself by admitting he was happy to hear the EMH was around, Chakotay descended the staircase and saw him.

"Where's Neelix?" he demanded.

"About that..." Tom started and just shook his head, "Neelix had no idea who I was, and given the circumstances I found him in, I didn't feel comfortable trying to drag him back here with me."

"What simulation was he in?" Chakotay asked.

Tom cast a glance at B'Elanna. "Let's just say he and B'Elanna now have a whole lot more in common."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"He's a Klingon."

B'Elanna's eyes widened in surprise. "Klingon? Who could be less Klingon than Neelix?"

"Don't judge," the doctor remarked, coming down the stairs and taking in all of their stunned expressions. "You've all been there."

Tom opened his mouth to ask a question about that comment when Chakotay cut him off. "How's the captain?"

"She's stable," the hologram huffed, "so far as I can tell. With the replicators offline and my inability to enter my own sickbay, I can only do so much. Her pulse is strong, and while she has some broken bones, there do not appear to be any life-threatening injuries."

"Broken bones?" Tom repeated the words and heard B'Elanna growl low in her throat.

"Yes. Two to three ribs and the lower bone in her jaw from the feel of it. Judging from the swelling and bruising, I would also expect some fracturing of the left eye orbital." He glanced at the ceiling above them with something of a grimace. "I imagine when she wakes she will be quite...formidable."

B'Elanna snorted. "Like a wounded targ."

"Quite," he agreed. "If I could give her something for the pain or even keep her sedated I would..."

"Doctor, what happened? Why does she still think she's this 'Katrine' person?" Chakotay asked, unable to keep himself from looking, once again, towards the bedroom where they'd left her.

"I'm not sure. I only had a few minutes to work at the console unobserved, and I was trying to get as many of you as I could."

"What do you mean 'get us'?"

"I needed to disable your neural interfaces," he explained. "I had six of you pulled up when I was interrupted by the Hirogen that was working in sickbay. Despite his sudden appearance, I managed to execute the command to disrupt your implants."

"Six?" Chakotay questioned. "Did you include the captain?"

"Of course."

"But, Doc, something obviously went wrong if she still thinks she's in France," Tom complained.

"Obviously," he agreed dryly, "but without diagnostic tools, I'm at a loss as to why that is the case."

"What about the rest of the crew?" Chakotay asked. "How do we free them from these...neural interfaces?"

"The controls are routed through the surgical console in sickbay, but it'll take time to disable them all."

"We don't have time," Chakotay stated curtly.

"We could blow it up," Torres commented, causing all eyes to turn to her.

"Blow up sickbay?" The doctor sounded aghast.

"We've got enough explosives lying around this place," she shrugged. "Using the jeffries tubes, we could set a few of these charges underneath the deck plating. Take out the whole console in one quick blast."

Chakotay shook his head. "It won't work. I doubt the Hirogen have put holoemitters in the jeffries tubes."

"But there are holoemitters in sickbay," Tom contributed. "So the explosives would still work there. We just have to place them next to the console."

"Get the explosives in and then get out. It could work." Chakotay nodded. "As soon as Seven and Tuvok get back, she can enhance the explosives. Tom, you and I need to figure out how we're going to get past the Hirogen. B'Elanna, keep trying to reach Harry, and see if he can find a way to shut all this down."

* * *

Katrine slowly regained consciousness, opening her eyes as best she could and peering at the peeling paint of the ceiling above her. She knew where she was, at least. The small bedroom over the bar that she'd stayed the night in on more than one occasion. She found it fitting that this was where the American had brought her. The room had often served as a hideout for fugitives of the Third Reich, which she supposed she was now.

Although she was more than a fugitive, she was an escapee as well, and she knew the Nazis didn't take too kindly to that sort of thing. At least on the one occasion before that she had been a guest of the state, they hadn't determined who she was before she'd managed to leave their care. Damn that American for bringing her here. He'd endangered her entire cell with just her presence, but at the time she'd been too out of it to argue with him. Thinking about it, she supposed it didn't really matter anyway. LeNeuf would've told the Nazis everything about the place and the cell already. Hatred burned inside her chest, and Katrine pushed herself to a sitting position on the small bunk. Bile rose in her throat, and she closed her eyes against the spinning of the room.

She'd passed in and out of consciousness from the moment they'd left the basement. The pain in her side had flared hot and bright each time the American captain had jostled her, but oddly enough she'd also enjoyed the feel of his arms around her, the warmth radiating from his chest as he'd carried her through darkened streets. It had been a fleeting thought before she'd passed out again, but for a moment, in his arms, she'd almost felt safe for the first time in years.

Illumination had shone bright red through her closed eyelids, and his chest had rumbled against her cheek as he'd barked out orders for a doctor, and she'd known she was back inside somewhere. She hadn't wanted a doctor though, never had liked them, but her mind hadn't been moving fast enough to tell him so. The way he'd demanded that someone find a way for the doctor to appear, she didn't think he'd have listened to her anyway. But it was only when she'd heard Brigitte's concerned voice answering him that she realized she was back in the Coeur de Lion. She'd wanted to open her eyes and reassure her young friend that she was all right, but she didn't think she'd succeeded.

Somehow, a doctor had been summoned, and she'd felt herself being carried up the steps that were hidden in the back. Strange words had floated around her. Words like _Hirogen_ and _holograms_, and something about a bridge. She'd wanted to question what was going on, but the American captain had been settling her onto the small bunk and pain flared through her body, blotting out all thought.

Katrine opened her eyes again and surveyed the room. The doctor hadn't been able to do much for her. She'd heard him say as much. The captain's gentle touch had brushed her hair away from her face just as he'd done in the basement. She'd marveled that he could touch her face without causing pain. He'd whispered to her to come back to him. An odd phrase from a man she'd just met, but the words had been offered with such concern that she hadn't minded. Then he'd squeezed her hand and allowed the doctor to shoo him away. The doctor's more clinical touch, probing her injuries, caused the throbbing in her head to explode to the forefront of her thoughts and she'd slipped back into oblivion.

But, now, she was done with resting. Injured or not, she needed to make sure her people knew it was no longer safe in St. Claire. Even with the arrival of the Americans, the Nazis would still be looking to capture members of the Resistance. She pushed herself to her feet and swayed for a moment before stumbling over to the sink. Catching her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she couldn't help but notice the swelling and dark bruises that were beginning to form. Dried blood and wine stained her shirt front, but at least someone had washed her face clean. Judging solely by the appearance of her clothes, she must've looked a mess.

Voices echoed quietly up the staircase, and she felt the burn in her chest reminding her of what she needed to do. Steadying herself by holding onto the porcelain, Katrine reached underneath and behind the sink, hissing as the cuff of her shirt slid against the raw skin on her wrist before her searching fingers found the butt of the gun that was concealed there. Tugging it out, she checked that it was loaded and racked back the slide. LeNeuf had put them all in danger; she had to be eliminated.

* * *

Another explosion rocked the building, and Tom narrowly avoided a bottle of wine as it crashed from a shelf to the debris-strewn floor. "They just don't give up, do they?"

"That was one of ours, sir!" Ayala yelled from his guard position by the door.

"Thanks," Tom replied then turned to B'Elanna. "Do you think he'll still call me 'sir' when he remembers who he is?"

She snorted. "Did he ever call you 'sir' before?"

"Seven," Chakotay stood at the end of the bar, "how's it coming?"

"Your repeated questions are not an efficient use of your time or mine," she replied curtly. "However, without further interruption, I will have this task completed in three minutes."

"Consider _this_ an interruption." Kathryn Janeway's gravelly voice washed over the small group of people at the bar who turned as one to face in her direction.

"Captain, you shouldn't be out of –"

The doctor's voice trailed off as his petite captain stepped out of the shadows and into the light, holding a pistol that was aimed straight at Seven of Nine.

"Step away from them...or I'll kill you."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I believe your intent is to kill me regardless."

"This woman is not your enemy," Tuvok said calmly, positioning himself in front of Seven. "Lower your weapon."

"Remy, move out of the way." Katrine breathed, bringing her other hand up to support the shaking hand holding the pistol. "She's an infiltrator. You were right about her."

"I believe that you are mistaken," he paused, reflecting further on her comment, "as was I."

She shook her head. "No. The Nazis said her name. They knew who I was. She's working for them."

"Katrine!" Chakotay snapped her name with authority and got her attention as he moved around the bar towards her. "She was working with us," he indicated one of the patches on his uniform, "and unfortunately, one of our people got captured and compromised her. That's how the Nazis knew her name."

"No," Katrine shook her head. "No, that…that wasn't it. They _knew_ her."

He doubted that anyone else could hear the uncertainty that had crept into her voice. "You don't want to kill her, Katrine. It would be a mistake. She's on _our_ side."

Still not lowering her arm, Katrine glared at him. "_Who_ are you?"

"My apologies, mademoiselle," he smiled slightly in an attempt to alleviate the tension, though his features felt tight wanting to fight the uncalled for expression. "I forgot we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Captain…Miller," he said, remembering what Ayala kept calling him. "My men and I found you in a basement a few houses away from here. I brought you here for medical treatment."

"I don't need medical treatment. I'm fine," she bit out.

"I stand corrected." Chakotay tipped his head to her, fighting a grim smile. Whether she knew it or not, the woman in front of him was most certainly Captain Janeway. "Will you please hand over the pistol? You're making my corporal nervous." He indicated Ayala with a jerk of his head.

Katrine glanced towards the window to see the soldier she had fought with over the broken bottle aiming his rifle at her.

"You sure gave those Krauts that left you in that basement a helluva time, ma'am. I'd hate to have to shoot you now," he told her.

Her eyes flicked over everyone in the room. Remy had not moved from in front of LeNeuf. Brigitte, with an indescribable look on her face, stood at the other end of the bar with another American soldier. The captain near her never took his eyes off of her, and she could feel the intensity of his stare. She gave one last hard look at LeNeuf before slowly lowering her arm. The blond nodded at her and went back to working on the explosives. Slowly, everyone began to move again. The corporal lowered his rifle and returned to looking out the window. Remy kept his position in front of LeNeuf but turned his back to Katrine. Brigitte cast her a furtive look before being distracted by the tall American standing over her shoulder.

"May I have that?" Chakotay asked, breaking into her thoughts. He indicated the pistol Katrine still held.

"No," she huffed and tucked it into the waistband of her pants, staggering back a step as she did so. "I don't trust her and I don't know _you_. I'm not about to walk around this place unarmed."

"Fair enough." He watched as she took another unsteady step backwards, before sinking heavily onto one of the chairs. He sighed, "You need to rest, Katrine."

"I'm _fine,_" she spat, "and in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not wearing one of your uniforms. I don't follow your orders."

Chakotay stopped himself from rolling his eyes and settled for trying to reason with her instead. "All I'm saying is that we don't need you right now–" he held up his hand when she started to object, "but we may need you later. You should take this opportunity to rest, get cleaned up," he took a chance and eyed her outfit, "maybe change your clothes. Something a little less...conspicuous."

Katrine looked down at herself. Even though her clothes could hardly be called white anymore through the myriad of colors that stained them, they were, as he pointed out, still rather obvious.

"You may have a point about the clothes," she conceded tiredly.

"There's a first time for everything," he said lightly, trying to remember to be grateful that Kathryn's character was as much like her as she normally was, although that was going to be a mixed blessing in any circumstance. "Do you have anything you can change into?"

She nodded and looked wearily back at the steps she'd have to climb to reach the bedroom again.

Chakotay followed her gaze and knew her energy was waning. Not that she'd ever admit to it. "Would you allow me the honor of escorting you back to your room?"

"That's rather forward of you; we just met," she quipped, realizing that maybe she was a little punch drunk.

"I've already carried you over the threshold," he motioned towards the front door. "Seems to me, we're old friends by now." He offered her his hand.

Katrine stared at it for a long moment before accepting. On her feet again, she had a terrible time not leaning into him as they walked across the bar. She really was tired, and she needed him to talk so she'd stop thinking about how much she really did want to just lie down and not get back up. They reached the staircase and his arm circled around the back of her waist, supporting her. It was a rather intimate gesture but she was thankful for it. She leaned her head back to look up at him.

He noticed her scrutiny. "What is it?"

"I don't even know your name," she closed her eyes briefly and then clarified, "your _first_ name, I mean."

"Chakotay."


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

"Please, Mr. Paris. You have to!"

Tom shrugged. "I'll try Doc, but I'm not promising anything. We aren't planning on sticking around in there long enough to get everything you left."

"It's not like I was given the opportunity to pack!" the hologram complained. "That Hirogen _medic, _and I use the term lightly, turned me off...in the middle of a sentence."

B'Elanna looked up, about to retort, but Tuvok caught her eye and shook his head slightly. She gritted her teeth and returned to the console she was working on. As much as she wanted to say something, she knew the Vulcan was right. It would only encourage the doctor, and despite Tom's feigned nonchalance, she knew he would do everything he could to retrieve the doctor's mobile emitter before they blew the place up. She had to admit, the doctor having the mobile emitter had probably saved lives.

He'd also be downright impossible to live with if he was stuck in sickbay for the rest of the trip home.

"Are we ready to go?" Chakotay asked, striding into the room.

Alone.

After long seconds of everyone scrutinizing him for signs of a recent struggle, B'Elanna was the one to finally bite. "Where's the captain?"

"Resting."

They all stared blankly at him.

He shrugged. "She sat down on the bed to put her shoes on, and she fell asleep."

"I think I better go check on her," the doctor commented. "Not that there's anything I can really do for her, without any medical equipment." The EMH shot Paris a dark look no one missed. "Commander, if you expect me to be of any use to any of you, you should try to at least pick up a few medical kits before you destroy sickbay. Preferably ones with regenerators in them. Mr. Paris will know which ones and where they are. I'm afraid we're going to need them before this war is over. Until we locate all of the crew, we have no idea whether the captain's injuries are even the worst among us."

To the doctor's pleasant surprise, Tom's faint disappointment, and B'Elanna's subsequent amusement, Chakotay simply nodded. It had been high on his list of priorities from the moment he'd located Janeway and discovered her injuries. "We'll also get your mobile emitter."

The EMH practically beamed as he left, heading for the upstairs bedroom.

"You could've let him stew a little bit..." Tom whined.

Chakotay just frowned at the pilot. His mind was cluttered with so many priorities that Tom's annoyance, and the reason behind it, was simply beyond him at the moment. He had neither time nor patience for things like humor, or anyone else's preferences right now. "Are the explosives ready?" was all he asked by way of acknowledgement.

"Yes," Seven hefted a bag towards him. "You will be able to set a timer using this crude device." She indicated an old fashioned clock face tucked in one of the pockets of the bag.

"Good work. Unless something goes wrong, we should be back within the hour. You should know easily enough if we succeeded." He gestured towards Ayala, who was still standing guard. "If he and Jarvin don't come back to themselves, you're going to have to come up with another plan. B'Elanna, have you been able to contact the other crewmembers? The ones being held in quarters?"

"They're standing by," she said. "When sickbay blows, Harry is going to use it as a diversion so he can open the locks of the quarters where the crew are being held."

Chakotay nodded. "Tuvok, you're in charge until I get back or until Captain Janeway comes down." He looked up towards the bedroom. "Brief her on the situation, but try not to let her leave." Tuvok raised an eyebrow, and the first officer understood the sentiment being expressed by the Vulcan. "I know. She'll want to charge off immediately, but Tom and I should be coming back with medical equipment as well as the most up to date information on our situation. _Try_ to convince her to wait."

"I will endeavor to do so," he replied dryly.

Chakotay wasn't entirely satisfied, and then he realized he probably shouldn't be. Considering who they were talking about, after all. "Hell…nerve pinch her if you have to – I don't care," he added grimly. "Just make sure she stays put until we get back. Tom, let's go." Chakotay indicated the stairs leading out of the bar. "Once we have the crew back, don't forget about Neelix and the crew on the other holodeck. I doubt they'll want to stay with the Klingons."

"I know I wouldn't," Torres grumbled.

Chakotay clapped her absently on the shoulder and followed Tom towards the door. "One hour."

* * *

She wasn't sure what had awakened her, but as she sat up, the pain in her side forced its way to the forefront of her mind. She wanted to gasp in a deep breath or grit her teeth at the wave of pain washing over her, but both actions would only cause further misery. Even as she settled for taking small, calming breaths, her fingers felt the weapon lying beside her on the bed. Her hand curled around the grip and its heavy, cold weight was reassuring. Pushing herself to her feet, she listened intently for any noise that would indicate her current situation.

Gunshots popped intermittently outside of the building, and she could hear a jumble of voices coming from downstairs. Katrine couldn't believe they'd let her sleep. No matter how badly she may have needed it, Brigitte and Remy should have known better. It was probably the fault of that damn American captain. Treating them all like they were his soldiers. Like he was in command. It might have escaped his notice, but St. Claire was a French town, not some army encampment. She was going to have a few choice words for him.

Just as she wrenched open the door to make her way downstairs, a loud bang shook the single chandelier she could see, but the noise hadn't been a gun. Not this time. It had sounded more like a door banging open. She paused. A sharp command given with a German accent echoed into the room and was followed by a silence that had Katrine holding her breath. Pushing herself flat against the wall, thankful she'd changed into dark clothes, she listened as the telltale sounds of guns being dropped to the floor could be heard, followed by the exaggerated stomp of boot heels. She tightened her grip on the gun; it sounded like an entire squad of Nazis had entered her beloved bar.

"Where is your leader?" the crisp German voice asked. "She and I have some unfinished business to discuss."

Katrine felt her blood run cold. That was a voice she recognized all too well. It was the same voice that had repeated question after question to her. The Nazi Kapitan that was second in command in St. Claire. The Nazi Kapitan that had slammed the heel of his boot into her thigh. The same one whose face she had bloodied with her fingernails and who had brandished a broken bottle at her, promising to do worse in return.

"Yes," a second voice joined the first, but this one had more of a rasp to it, it sounded more snakelike. "Where _is_...Janeway?"

Katrine's mind raced. Not so much at the thought of who this Janeway person was that they were looking for, but more for the best way to help her people. Just blundering in and shooting would not get her or them very far and would most likely end up with one of her own people getting shot. If only she could distract them somehow.

"If you don't _know_ where she is," Brigitte scoffed, "she's probably already regained control of this ship."

The sound of skin slapping skin had Katrine flinching and holding onto the railing of the stairs to restrain herself from rushing down to defend her friend. She held her breath. Brigitte was known for her temper, and this was the kind of situation where a hot head could get someone shot, but she heard Remy's low voice and although his words were undistinguishable, Katrine could only assume he had prevented Brigitte from fighting back.

"And to think you're carrying my child," the Nazi Kapitan sneered. "I shall deal with you later."

Katrine released the breath she'd been holding and felt a new pang in her chest. Brigitte had never told her who the father of her child was, and Katrine had never pushed, but she'd never imagined that Brigitte had put herself in _that_ much danger. The second in command. No wonder the information had always been accurate. But now…it was one more reason why she had to get down there. She had to get her people away from here.

Slowly, she crept one step further down the stairs to try and get a glimpse of where the Nazis were standing. Craning around as far as she dared, she could only see the young soldier that had aimed a rifle at her earlier. He was sitting on the floor with his back to the front door. By the way he kept a watchful eye on the bar, she imagined that's where the Nazis must be standing. Good. That would work perfectly for what she wanted.

* * *

It had taken her more than thirty minutes to make her way to the window at the front of the Coeur de Lion. The city was literally crawling with soldiers, German and American, and she had no desire to explain herself to any of them. Crawling out of the bedroom window had been difficult enough, considering she wasn't in the best of shape at the moment. The city had gone strangely quiet in the past few minutes, but she dismissed it as a lull as she peeked in at her target through the broken window. A well placed shot should take out one of her adversaries and get the other one's attention well enough.

With one last look around, Katrine was about to step out into the street in full view of the window when the front door of the bar opened, and she watched in confusion as Brigitte, Remy, LeNeuf, and the two American soldiers walked out unescorted. The path they were taking would lead them right past the mouth of the alley where she was hiding, but their conversation reached her first.

"What about the captain?" Brigitte asked with a look back over her shoulder.

"As we have not seen her, we must assume that Captain Janeway is still asleep upstairs," Remy answered her. "We can only hope that she will stay that way until we can return for her."

"And just how long do you intend to wait to return for her?" Brigitte asked, her tone incredulous. "Chakotay told you to make sure she stayed."

"It would be a mistake to go after her now," LeNeuf contributed. "It would only alert the Hirogen to her presence. We must wait until they have vacated the building."

"I can't believe Chakotay managed to arrange a ceasefire with the Alpha," one of the soldiers commented.

"Indeed. Our present situation did seem unlikely..."

The conversation went on as they continued walking down the street, but Katrine could no longer hear them. She had paused in calling out to them. Their conversation made little sense to her. _She_ had been the only person in the upstairs bedroom, and despite being the leader of the Resistance cell, none of her people had ever referred to her as "captain" before. And when Brigitte had been talking back to that Nazi bastard, she'd referred to a ship, but St. Claire was nowhere near water. What the hell ship was she talking about? And who was this Janeway woman everyone was looking for?

She could only guess that they had switched to a different code, one that was to be used in the event that she had been compromised, but it was confusing to the point of annoyance. But still they had protected her whereabouts from the Nazis. It would have been all too easy for them to have given her up, and they hadn't. She could still trust them; she just needed to reassure them that they could trust her.

Decision made, Katrine moved to follow her allies, but the door of the bar once again slammed open, and she threw herself back into her hiding spot. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner in time to see the Nazi officers spill into the street.

"You will take command here. Eliminate them." The hunter Nazi's voice was cold as he issued the order. "I have my own hunting to do."

"The Kommandant?" the kapitan asked.

The pockmarked Nazi nodded. "He has disgraced the name Hirogen and is no longer fit to be the Alpha. He is now my prey. Now go and do as I say."

The Kapitan saluted and hurried off, gathering troops as he went. Katrine watched as the Nazi hunter stood stock still in the street for several moments, before turning and stalking down the street in the opposite direction. She glanced once in the direction the soldiers had gone and then hurried after the Nazi hunter. He was alone. She would just need one good shot.

* * *

"What do you mean she's gone?"

Although it was understandable, Tom cringed at the unmistakable anger in Chakotay's voice. He and the commander had just made it back into the holodeck with medical supplies only to find that the captain was now missing, and that the truce Chakotay had arranged had been short lived. Very short lived.

Tuvok attempted to explain as a shot shattered more of the glass window beside him. "We returned for her at the earliest possible opportunity, Commander, but the room above the bar was vacant. It appears she used the window as an exit."

"It appears?" Chakotay snapped and fired off two shots into the growing darkness of St. Claire.

"Hey," B'Elanna growled, "it's not like we did it lightly. The German soldiers came into the bar looking for her. We had to act like she wasn't here, and when we left, we didn't want to risk calling attention to the rooms upstairs. She must've woken up and slipped out before we got back."

From his position near the door, Tom dropped his chin to his chest at B'Elanna's explanation. It was far from the most calming thing he'd ever heard, and he knew by the expression on her face she had just realized it as well.

"Wait," she tried, "that didn't come out exactly like I me–"

"You left her…_unconscious_…in a bar full of Hirogen?"

The commander was more livid than Tom had ever seen, and he almost felt as though he should intervene on B'Elanna's behalf, but unfortunately, Tom couldn't help but feel that Chakotay had a valid point. Maybe if he'd been here at the time…but even Seven hadn't tried to interrupt either, and she was usually eager to argue with Chakotay. Tom was sure that to her it had seemed like an efficient decision, but her attention hadn't wavered from the grenades she was fiddling with long enough to even look up at the burgeoning argument.

"What would you have had us do, Chakotay?" B'Elanna yelled over the sounds of the gun battle that was still being waged. "Ask the Hirogen to look the other way," she fired off several rounds from the rifle she was holding, "while we went and got the one person they were actually looking for?"

Tom fired his own pistol through the broken window panes of the front door, straining to hear what Chakotay would say to B'Elanna's rebuff.

"You shouldn't have left her, Torres!"

"It was the most logical course of action at the time," Tuvok contributed.

Tom glanced over his shoulder at his fellow combatants. At the expression on Chakotay's face, Tom had the distinct impression that Tuvok was about to find out firsthand what "friendly fire" felt like.

"I have an idea!" the doctor exclaimed, his holographic head popping up from behind the bar. "Since I can't be harmed by any of the bullets being tossed back and forth around here, I'll go and find the captain."

"I've got a better idea," B'Elanna yelled. "Why don't you go over to the other holodeck and get the Klingons over here to help us fight?" She flinched against a spray of shattered glass. "We need all the help we can get."

"But isn't Harry supposed to be shutting all of this down in a matter of minutes?" Tom asked.

"Reinforcements, for however short a period of time, would be well received at this juncture," Tuvok argued.

"He's right," Chakotay agreed. "We need to finish this fight now. The sooner we do, the sooner we can find the captain."

The doctor looked completely perplexed. "But what exactly am I supposed to say to the Klingons?"

"You'll think of something." Chakotay pushed him in the back. "Now go!"

* * *

Katrine swore as she crept along the unfamiliar corridor. Not only had she recklessly followed the Nazi hunter into the German bunker, she'd somehow managed to lose sight of him as well. She had, however, found the Kommandant. She'd come around a damaged corner of the bunker only to almost fall over his body on the floor. He'd been shot, and even though she knew perfectly well who had done it, the hunter Nazi had been nowhere in sight. Having lost her target, she'd begun to backtrack the way she had come, intent on getting to where the fighting was still going on, but so far all she'd managed to find was more of the curving corridor.

She heard the distinct crack of a rifle shot at almost the exact same instant she felt a tremendous pressure slam against her leg. Fire burned across her thigh, and she fell to the floor still clenching the pistol in her hand. Her free hand instinctively went to her leg, and she felt the warm gush of blood under her hand as she applied pressure. It hurt like hell, but she could feel both sides of the wound and knew it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The bullet had gone straight through, tearing up her muscle and flesh but missing the bone.

"Drop. The weapon."

Ice flowed through Katrine's veins at the familiar rasp, and she slowly looked up to see the pockmarked Nazi officer standing less than two meters away, aiming a rifle at her. Her index finger ticked closer to the trigger. "You must be a really poor shot to be that close and all you managed to do was wing me."

He moved a few steps closer. "I wanted the scent of your blood to be in the air for the hunt."

"Some great hunter you are," she sneered, "I've been hunting _you_–"

"Ever since the street corner," he finished for her. "I could've turned and killed you at any time, but you were _his_. Not anymore. I am the Alpha now."

She tightened her grip on the pistol. She was only going to have one chance at this. "So what're you waiting for? Why don't you just go ahead and kill me?"

He took another two steps closer. All she had to do was raise the barrel and pull the trigger. She moved.

He moved faster.

He lunged, landing at her side, and kicking out at her wrist. The gun flew out of her hand before she even got a shot off. The foot he'd kicked with came down solidly, landing squarely on the hand she still had clasped to her bleeding thigh. He ground down, pushing her leg flat against the floor. She couldn't help the guttural sound of pain that escaped her, and then she felt the tip of the rifle barrel against her temple.

Katrine took a deep, shuddering breath. She looked up at him with smoldering eyes. "Go on," she ground out. "Do it."

"I am a hunter." His foot moved away from her thigh. "You are my prey." He took two steps back and away from her, shifting the rifle in his grasp so the barrel pointed at the ceiling. "_Run._"


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

Katrine's nails raked along the stone wall as she skittered around the corner, barely keeping her balance. Her leg throbbed, and her breath was coming in tortured gasps. He was still behind her; she knew that much. She also knew he was toying with her. Every time she had slowed, or thought she'd lost him, a shot would ring out, more often than not shattering bits of wall close to her head. A sticky crawling sensation spread along her neck, and she reached a hand up, not surprised at all to find blood covering her palm when she withdrew it. A shot had grazed her ear and now it felt like a bloody throbbing lump on the side of her head. Why hadn't he simply killed her?

The one and only thing she had going for her at the moment was the fact that she had managed to make her way out of that damn bunker and back into the familiar setting of St. Claire. The fighting was still going on. Sounds of thunderous guns and air strikes had been replaced by what sounded like an all-out street brawl, and she was working her way towards it. A fight that loud had to be Americans.

The brick and mortar of the wall next to her head exploded; she had momentarily slowed her frantic escape. The bastard wouldn't kill her, but he wouldn't let her rest, either. Katrine stumbled along the street, swearing every few steps. She knew the game, or as he called it "the hunt", was almost over. His footfall against the cobblestone streets was growing close behind her. He wasn't bothering to hide anymore, but she just needed one more minute. This was her town, her home, and he may have been chasing her, but she was leading the way. She heard the bolt action of the rifle slide into place, and she lunged to her right into the mouth of the next alley as another shot flew past her. Not bothering to slow down, Katrine couldn't help but notice that last shot had been center mass. It had not been meant to miss. If she hadn't moved when she had, she'd be dead now.

"You have nowhere left to run," his voice rang out as his shadow fell over the alley. "Turn and face me, Janeway."

Katrine stumbled and fell against several trash bins, knocking them to the ground all around herself. She floundered, pushing one of the cans off her legs, even as she scrambled to back away from the Nazi hunter. "Please," she said, her hand searching through the debris she had purposefully caused, "don't do this."

He almost seemed to sigh as he lifted the rifle to his shoulder, preparing to execute her. "You have been honorable prey. Do not humiliate yourself now."

Her hand found what she had been searching for. She gave him a small smile. "I don't intend to."

The smile made him pause. It was not a facial characteristic the Hirogen possessed, but he recognized it as a sign of victory not surrender. The trash concealing her hand fluttered the instant before he saw the muzzle of a weapon. His finger ticked backwards on his own trigger even as his heightened senses registered the bright orange blast aimed in his direction. Two loud successive pops sounded in the alley, and the hunter felt the force of the blast hit him in the chest. He was knocked backwards, striking the wall behind him with his back, the rifle falling from his grasp. Two more shots sounded, and tremendous pressure pushed on his chest as he slid down the wall. His gaze was darkening. The final death was upon him, and the last thing he saw was the female captain struggling back to a sitting position still aiming the ancient firearm at him. He had underestimated her. The Alpha had been right. _He_ had become _her_ prey.

Katrine continued to hold the gun on him. Her arm was shaking so badly she was glad he was dead because she probably wouldn't be able to hit him now if she had to. She doubted she had enough strength to even pull back on the trigger again, but still she kept it pointed at him. His body was slumped against the wall at an awkward angle, and his head was tilted downwards, unmoving, but his eyes were still open. She told herself he was dead, and still, her arm shook. Fire burned through her shoulder, but she didn't dare look away from him. She blinked rapidly, fighting to stay conscious. His final shot had been accurate, but she'd fired more...and she'd fired last. She'd won.

The pistol slipped from her fingers and clattered against the stone street. Her eyes strayed slowly to where the weapon lay, struggling to focus on it. Absently, her shaking hand lowered, reaching for the gun, and she felt her entire body sliding towards it. Her hand set numbly atop the grip, unable to grasp it properly. She just needed to rest for a minute. Then she'd go find the others. She might even let that American doctor give her some morphine.

Maybe.

After she rested.

* * *

The fight was out of control. Klingons, Hirogen, Nazis, and Starfleet officers, some in WWII era clothing, some in regular uniform, were all duking it out in an old fashioned street brawl that had spilled across the holodeck and into all the surrounding areas. Despite the many scrapes he'd been in during his lifetime, Chakotay had never seen anything like it. Nothing even remotely compared, especially since half of the participants were nothing more than photons and light. Constructs that Harry was supposed to be erasing at any minute.

"Remind me to lecture Harry–" B'Elanna swung a recovered bat'leth with abandon, "–on the merits of punctuality."

"Give him a break B'E," Tom commented, out of breath beside her, "at least he freed the rest of the crew."

Chakotay grunted as a Nazi soldier crashed into him. He ducked a punch and came up fast, poised to deliver a brutal uppercut, but his fist sliced cleanly through the air. He hadn't missed; the holographic soldier had disappeared. Chakotay recovered his balance and looked around at the rapidly disappearing fighters. The walls and buildings of St. Claire started to flicker as all the holographic constructs began a cascade sequence of failing until there was nothing left on the holodeck except for Hirogen and Starfleet. And the Starfleet were now outnumbering and overpowering the few remaining, now-fleeing Hirogen.

Chakotay breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could find Kathryn.

"Commander!"

Chakotay spun on his heel at the doctor's sharp command. Bodies, some unconscious, some dead, were scattered all over the holodeck, but the doctor, his mobile emitter affixed to his sleeve, was already kneeling next to one. A slender figure clad in all black was lying jackknifed on the deck next to the sole remaining hologram's knees. The black shirt and pants were what she had changed into at his request to be less conspicuous, and Chakotay knew instantly it was Kathryn lying there.

Tom rushed past Chakotay's shoulder, dropping to his knees and skidding to a stop at the doctor's side, already opening one of the medkits they'd retrieved earlier. Chakotay took a halting step forward as the two men gently rolled Kathryn to her back. Standing next to him, B'Elanna swore and grabbed at his arm.

The bruising on Kathryn's face from her earlier beating had darkened, leaving the skin that wasn't mottled a purplish color looking ghastly pale in comparison. Not that there was much of the pale skin visible. The doctor's hands were in constant motion as Tom prepared hyposprays and readied medical instruments. Forcing himself to move closer still, Chakotay could finally see what was troubling the doctor.

Kathryn's sweater was sporting a large, growing damp spot that covered from her breast to her shoulder. The right side of her face was covered in blood, her ear looking like a ghastly skewered piece of meat. Wrenching his gaze away from her face only led him to see the ragged tear in her pants leg across her thigh. More bloodied flesh was visible. He closed his eyes, refusing to see more.

He forced himself to ask. "Doctor? Is she–?"

"She's lost a lot of blood," the hologram snapped. "I need the proper instruments to heal her effectively, and I don't have them!"

"B'Elanna," Tom spoke up, "we need a working replicator."

She nodded jerkily and moved quickly towards the holodeck doors, never noticing that Tuvok motioned for Ayala and Tabor to accompany her.

"Doctor, I need to know..." Chakotay began again, "Will she be all right?"

"I'm stabilizing her now," he answered, running a medical tricorder near her head. "She should be fine...given time."

The first officer let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and nodded. "She'll have it." He turned towards Tuvok. "We'll establish this as our holding point. Get the word out that any of our injured should be brought here."

Tuvok nodded. "We are in control of this deck as well as two above and two below. The Hirogen still control engineering and the bridge, but they are holding in place on decks three and ten."

"Regrouping," Chakotay muttered.

"As are we, Commander."

"Get patrols and checkpoints established. I don't want to lose any more decks to them."

Tuvok nodded his agreement, and Chakotay looked to his left, taking real notice for the first time of the other body lying within a meter of his captain. It was a Hirogen dressed in the Nazi grey uniform. If he remembered correctly, it was the same one that had hauled Kathryn to her feet on the bridge and had his hand wrapped around her throat when this whole thing had started. From the looks of it, Kathryn had once again managed to have the last word.

"You said they're holding on deck three?" he asked.

Tuvok nodded.

Chakotay clapped him on the shoulder. "I think when the captain wakes up, she would appreciate having control of her bridge."

Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "I concur."

"Let's do it."

* * *

Chakotay stared in horrified amazement at the ready room. The fact that the Hirogen had taken the time to redecorate the bulkheads of Kathryn's ready room to their more macabre standards spoke volumes. They had been intending to stay for awhile, and if it hadn't been for Harry and the doctor, the crew of_ Voyager_ might still be trapped in the nightmare scenarios that had been playing out on the holodecks. Chakotay would really have to remember to write them up for commendations.

That was, of course, provided the current ceasefire held and he, as acting captain, managed to find a way to convince the Hirogen to leave the ship altogether. He had an idea of a "trophy" to offer them in exchange for their departure, but he wasn't entirely convinced it was a good idea. He didn't think it was something Kathryn would ever approve of, but then again, if it got the Hirogen off the ship without any more bloodshed, she probably wouldn't hesitate.

But giving technology to the Hirogen...the thought alone made him shudder.

Ideally, a decision this big was something he and Kathryn would discuss and decide on together, but as she had yet to regain consciousness, that wasn't an option. And time was running out.

The Hirogen hadn't actually been familiar with the concept of a ceasefire, but they had agreed to a pause in the fighting so they could collect their fallen hunters. Over the past day, the Starfleet crew had retaken decks one through three, but had lost footing on deck nine. Tuvok reasoned that at this point they had the better numbers and controlled a larger portion of the ship and could overpower the Hirogen, effectively retaking the entire ship, but if they had to literally fight the Hirogen off each and every deck, the casualties would climb exponentially. And they'd already lost too many.

Chakotay reached up and pulled a weapon off the bulkhead, grimacing at the sight of the bones hanging suspended in a net that stretched across the corner of the room's ceiling. Those were definitely coming down next. There were several other things he could be doing while the ceasefire was in effect, sleeping more than thirty minutes would be one, but he had an irrational desire to straighten up Kathryn's ready room so she wouldn't have to see it so...violated. There'd be enough for her to do and acknowledge without adding this to her plate.

"Doctor to Chakotay."

He hit his comm. badge. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"The captain is regaining consciousness."

"I'll be right down." He closed the channel and looked briefly around the room. He sighed and headed for the doors; he'd simply have to divert Kathryn away from this room for a little while.

* * *

Rounding the corner, Chakotay was surprised to find the doctor standing outside the holodeck doors waiting on him, and his pulse immediately increased. "What's wrong?"

"She's fine, Commander," he said immediately then hesitated. "Physically…at least."

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"I want to prepare you for a possible complication regarding the captain's condition," the EMH said hastily. "I won't know for certain until she wakes up, but I believe there may be a problem with her neural interface."

Chakotay resisted the urge to rub his neck at the spot where the doctor had removed the small implanted device from him. "Why haven't you removed it?"

"At some point during the scenario, it was damaged, and became fused to her spinal cord. Until I have a functioning surgical bay, I cannot risk trying to remove it," he sighed. "She may still think she's in the scenario."

Chakotay waved a hand towards the holodeck doors. "But the entire holodeck system is down. There isn't even a program running that the implant can interface with!"

"But the neural interface itself is still operating and the last program it was operating with was the WWII scenario," he tried to explain. "The implant is still hardwired to her nervous system circumventing her memory centers. She may not be able to access her memories."

Chakotay paused as those words sunk in. "Are you saying...that she might be stuck like this?"

"No," the doctor quickly reassured him. "No, I'm not saying that at all. Her memory centers don't show any kind of permanent damage that would suggest that happening. However, as long as the implant is still functioning, I can't say with certainty if we'll be dealing with Kathryn Janeway…or a very disgruntled bartender from the twentieth century."

Rubbing his hand over his chin, Chakotay moved past the doctor, triggering the doors to open. "Let's go find out."

The woman on the bunk groaned, and Chakotay looked over her at the doctor. The hologram was running the medical tricorder above her, but he could only shrug in answer to the commander's unspoken question.

"Talk to her," he suggested.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Captain, can you hear me?"

Her eyebrows drew together. "Wh–" she had to clear her throat before she could continue, "what's our status?"

Chakotay felt the pressure in his chest ease slightly at the question. Her voice sounded huskier than usual, but it was such a typical Kathryn question that he felt hopeful. "The fighting is at a standstill for the moment–"

"That almost sounds like we're holding our own."

Chakotay frowned at the phrase. "Captain?"

"You've got a short memory, G.I." She gave a harsh chuckle and her eyes fluttered open. "I'm no captain." Her eyes focused on his red-clad shoulders, and she frowned. "Now that's a uniform I haven't seen before."

She blinked several times, her eyes scanning her surroundings and seeing the gridded walls of the holodeck. "Where are we?" The two men hovering over her remained speechless at her question, and her eyes darted between them. "Where the _hell_ are we?"

The doctor recovered first. "We're in the…bunker."

Chakotay winced, knowing instinctively that had been the wrong answer.

"The _Nazi_ bunker?!" she asked, moving up to her elbows.

The EMH put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Please, Captain, I need you to remain calm."

"Get your mitts off me!" she growled, staring at the offending hand.

The doctor moved his hand as though he'd touched something hot. "My apologies." He looked to Chakotay. "Commander...perhaps you can–"

Chakotay opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Katrine spoke again, her voice almost a whisper. "How _long_ was I out?"

"Just two days," he answered, frowning at the note of fear he could hear in her voice.

Her eyes snapped to his. "Two days?" she breathed and then looked back down at her body. "But...but I was shot."

Understanding dawned in Chakotay's mind, and he had a sinking feeling that they were now faced with an even more difficult problem.

Katrine clawed at the neck of her shirt, running her hand under the collar of it, feeling nothing but smooth skin. "I was _shot_," she repeated. "What the hell is going on?"

She had pushed herself all the way up to a sitting position now, and Chakotay put his hand on her knee. "Listen to me, Kath- Katrine, listen...you were dying. We had to use some...experimental medicine treatments to save you."

She stilled. "Experimental?"

"Yes," the doctor agreed, trying to help and completely missing the icy tone of her question. "It was touch and go there for awhile, but with a few new procedures we managed to bring you back."

"New procedures?" she repeated, her teeth grinding the words. "And this _new_ medicine you used…it was stuff you found in here?"

She indicated the holodeck, and the doctor felt his optimism from a moment before slipping. "Well...yes...in a manner of speaking."

"You should've let me die!" she snarled at him, at the same time flinging Chakotay's hand off her knee.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bunk, she stood up and Chakotay stood up with her. "Katrine, wait. You don't understand–"

"Oh, I understand all right," she spat. "You just used a little Nazi medicine to heal me, didn't you? You bastard." She poked him in the chest. "Do you have any idea what kind of tortures the Nazis put people through to produce those 'new procedures' you just used? Or do you Yanks just not care about that sort of thing?"

"It's nothing like that–" Chakotay tried again, but she wasn't hearing it. He grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to face him. "Will you just let me explain?"

Katrine jerked out of his grasp, and folded her arms across her chest. "Fine. Explain."

He ran his hand through his hair before looking her in the eye. "Losing you was unacceptable."

For one interminable second, her eyes softened, and he thought he'd gotten through to her, and then she gave a startled cry of pain and clapped her hand to the side of her neck, doubling over, "Son of a–"

"Katrine?" Chakotay asked, reaching for her.

Slowly standing upright, she raised her eyes to his again, quickly darting them over to the doctor and then back to him. "Chakotay? What's going on?"

Chakotay and the doctor exchanged a look. "Kathryn?"

She nodded her hand still at her neck. "Yes. Why are we in the holodeck?"

The doctor immediately moved to scan her with the medical tricorder. "I'm reading fluctuations in the implant. It's power–"

Kathryn grunted and clutched at her neck again, falling against the EMH, before righting herself and knocking his hand away as he tried to support her. "Get away from me."

The doctor looked to Chakotay and began trying to explain, "The implant's power core is destabilizing–"

Chakotay gestured for the hologram to stop talking, but it was too late.

"Implant?" Katrine hurled furiously. "You put something _in_ me?"

"No, of course not," the doctor tried.

"We trusted the Americans, but now I see you're just as bad as they are!" Katrine turned away from them and spotted the large doors of the bunker. She was going to get the hell out of here, and then she'd find a way to get whatever implant they were talking about the hell out of her.

Ignoring the two men clambering behind her, she strode towards the doors only to have them open moments before she reached them, allowing entrance to a tall blonde woman. Katrine almost didn't recognize LeNeuf with her hair done up tightly and wearing a skintight leotard of some kind, but the ornamental face metal was a dead giveaway.

Seven stopped short at the sight of Janeway standing just inside the doorway. "Captain, I had not heard you were awake."

"I should've known," the smaller woman growled. "You're all in this together, aren't you?"

Seven arched an eyebrow at the odd response and glanced over her captain's head at the doctor and commander standing behind her. "I'm afraid I do not know what you are referring to."

Katrine's fist snapped upwards to LeNeuf's face, but Seven's reflexes were faster, and she easily caught the captain's strike in the palm of her hand before it could reach its intended destination. She couldn't, however, have anticipated the spit that hit her in the face.

"Traitor," Katrine hissed even as the doctor emptied a hypospray against her neck. "All of you..."

Chakotay caught Kathryn as she slumped unconscious towards the floor and lifted her easily into his arms. "Seven, are you all right?"

"I am undamaged," she replied, calmly wiping her face.

"The captain isn't, I'm afraid," the doctor commented wryly at her side.

Seven cast him a sidelong look but did not feel the need to reiterate the obviousness of the situation.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

It was done. Over. Chakotay wiped his hand over his face as the turbolift quietly moved him between decks. If _Voyager_ ever did make it back to the Alpha Quadrant, he and Kathryn would both be standing tall in front of the admiralty explaining their separate decisions to break the Prime Directive.

But, most importantly, the Hirogen were gone, having accepted his small offering of an optronic datacore. The technology that would allow them to make their own holodecks. Chakotay hoped they would do nothing more with it than add it to their trophies hanging on some bulkhead, but he had a sinking sensation that they would eventually produce something far less innocuous with it.

The turbolift shuddered to a halt, depositing him on deck three, and he stepped out wearily, not exactly looking forward to his next task. He glanced down at the PADD Harry had handed him as he'd exited the cargo bay. It was a status report. Repairs were going smoothly and with the help of Seven and B'Elanna, Harry felt certain that they'd have one holodeck back up and running by tomorrow morning.

Ordinarily the holodecks would've been last on the list of repairs, but the group consensus had determined that it would take less time to recreate the doctor's surgical bay in holographic form than it would to rebuild sickbay. And the surgical bay was sorely needed. There were at least five injuries among the crew that required medical procedures which could only be done safely with surgery. Not the least of which was reclaiming the captain.

It had been three days since Kathryn Janeway's initial return to consciousness after the battle in St. Claire. Her appearance in the gridded holodeck had been brief, and Katrine's more strident and less controlled personality had made it necessary to sedate the captain of _Voyager_. The doctor had deemed it prudent at the time, but with the replicator system offline he did not have the resources to keep her that way. The second ceasefire had lasted only slightly longer than the first and injured personnel had needed the sedatives more. There'd been no choice but to allow Katrine to awaken.

The problem had been what to do with her once that happened, as _Voyager_ simply did not have the personnel available to babysit a twentieth century personality trapped on a twenty-fourth century starship in the middle of an ongoing battle. The decision had not been easy, but in an effort to keep her safe and out of the way, they'd confined the unconscious woman to the brig. However, the neural interface's power core was still fluctuating, and it had not been Katrine that had awoken there, but Kathryn Janeway.

She had not taken being confined within her own ship's brig very easily, and it had taken Chakotay and Tuvok several minutes to explain to her more rational side why they'd felt it had been necessary. After several tense minutes, she had at last acquiesced that, with a sporadically emerging other personality, she could not be in command, but she had refused to remain in the brig.

Her alternative had led to Chakotay now standing outside her quarters wondering exactly which formidable woman he'd be faced with today. Over the course of the past few days, Katrine had calmed down. She still didn't like the doctor and refused to allow him near her, but Chakotay's presence was generally accepted. She had asked repeatedly about Remy and Brigitte, and Chakotay had assured her they were well but busy.

The neural interface's fluctuations seemed to be occurring less frequently than they had at first, leaving whichever personality was forefront around for longer periods of time, but there still seemed to be no way to determine when the fluctuations would happen. And neither woman had appreciated being locked up and kept away from the action.

Steeling himself, he rang the chime and began entering the sequence of numbers to unlock the doors. No response bade him enter, which made him think he'd be faced with Katrine. Kathryn would usually grant him permission to enter, choosing to ignore the fact that he would enter regardless of invitation on what she called his "checkup visits".

The doors slid smoothly open, and he peered cautiously into the darkened quarters, unable to see anyone or anything. He glanced subconsciously to the location of the viewports along the bulkhead, even though he knew he would see nothing there. In an effort to keep Katrine from asking too many questions she would not understand the answers to, they had darkened the viewports of Kathryn's quarters, allowing no view of the stars that existed just outside. Despite it being a calming factor for Katrine, it was one of many contributing factors to Kathryn's ever-increasing surliness. Chakotay empathized, knowing that Kathryn often sought solace by staring out at the ever-present starfields they flew through. It must be disheartening for her to not even have that avenue of escape available to her.

"Lights to thirty percent," he called as he stepped forward, allowing the doors to close behind him. He was greeted with an empty room, and for a moment he wondered if she was sleeping. It was early in the evening, but he certainly wouldn't begrudge her or anyone a few hours of uninterrupted rest. He longed for it himself.

"Is that you, G.I.?" her voice called from the bathroom.

He sighed, feeling disappointed knowing for certain it wouldn't be Kathryn he'd talk to tonight. "Yes."

"Well, Captain," she asked, sauntering into sight and leaning against the doorframe, "kill any Krauts today?"

"Um…no, not today," he managed after a moment of bewilderment.

Chakotay had understood after the first day of dealing with Katrine that when she said "Krauts" she was referring to the Hirogen who had been posing as Germans on the holodeck, but her question was not what had caused him to stumble in his response. Katrine had evidently been taking advantage of the quarters she was staying in and had just stepped out of the tub. Her face was flushed, and the tips of her hair were wet. She was dressed, for which Chakotay was supremely thankful, but the satiny dark blue robe on her shoulders hung open, revealing a skimpy matching tank top and shorts that showed more leg than he'd ever seen Kathryn show.

"I haven't had a bath that nice since my trip to Paris," she commented and took a drink straight from a bottle she held in her hand. "And these clothes…"

Only once had Chakotay ever seen Kathryn wear the outfit that was being so brazenly worn in front of him now. He'd stopped by her quarters late one night unexpectedly to drop off a report, and Kathryn had been hastily tying the robe closed as she answered the door. An action he sorely wished the woman in front of him would perform now, but she seemed in no hurry to do so.

He swallowed thickly and pointed at the bottle Katrine was drinking from. "Where did you get that?"

She looked down at her hand and swirled the remaining blue liquid around the bottom of the bottle. "Found it." Raising the bottle in his direction, she asked, "Want some?"

He shook his head in the negative.

"Oh come on," she cajoled. "What's one drink between friends?"

He crossed to her stiffly and accepted the bottle, raising it to his nose and sniffing the contents. "Romulan ale." She gave him a lazy smile and reached for the bottle, but he held it away from her. "Where did you find this?"

She frowned and pushed past him, setting herself down on top of the desk. "I told you." She patted the mahogany surface. "I found it."

Chakotay couldn't help but snort at that. It didn't surprise him too much that Kathryn had been keeping a secret stash; he had one of his own after all, but her choice of drink was not what he would have picked at all. He set the bottle down on the end table away from Katrine. "You know the woman that lives here isn't going to be too happy with you. She might've been saving that for a special occasion."

Katrine rolled her eyes. "She should've kept it in a better hiding spot then." She crossed her legs and leaned back on her palms.

Chakotay looked away from her as the robe fell to her sides.

"She had a picture of you in there too y'know."

Chakotay couldn't help but glance back at her, surprised slightly, but then he shook his head. "I'm sure she has a lot of pictures in there."

"Nope." Katrine shook her head. "Just yours." She eyed him closely. "It looked very…intimate."

He almost choked. "What?"

"Not like that." She pushed herself off the desk, wobbling slightly. "I mean it was a good picture of you. Just you." She moved closer to him. "And the expression on your face…" she breathed in a deep breath, "just looking at the picture made me feel like…" Her voice trailed off, but she was still watching him closely.

Chakotay had to clear his throat. "Made you feel like what?"

"Like I do now," she took another step closer. "Like you're trying to search my soul with your eyes."

He said nothing. He knew what picture she was talking about now. It was one Kathryn had taken of him while they'd been on New Earth. She'd wanted something to sketch but hadn't wanted to make him sit for a portrait. She'd told him to think of the most important thing in his life. She'd gasped at the picture when she saw it, mumbling some sort of thanks and walking quickly away from him.

He'd never had the chance to tell her he'd been thinking about her.

Katrine was still studying him. "Made me wonder how she must've felt when she took the picture."

Chakotay shook his head. "You don't know she was the one taking the picture."

The all-too-familiar lopsided smile appeared, and Katrine took another step towards him, invading his space. "I know how it made me feel to see it."

He took a step back. "How's that?"

"Jealous."

"Jealous?" Chakotay frowned, taking another step back, and sensing the wall behind him.

Katrine nodded, closing the space between them again, standing just in front of him, her head tilted up so she could look him in the eye. "Just who is this woman whose house you have me shacked up in? Is it your lover?"

"No."

"Your prostitute?"

"No!"

Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously. "Good, because it's been a long four years."

In one single fluid movement, her body pressed against his with her hands reaching up to pull his head down to hers. He was shocked by the sudden warmth of her mouth against his, her hands tangling in his hair, and her warm body pushing against him. Reacting to a long held desire, he opened his mouth, relishing the quick feel of her tongue against his, and then he tasted the ale that still clung to her lips.

He wrenched his mouth away from hers and pushed against her shoulders, easily moving her away. His chest heaved in deep breaths and he didn't dare look down. He didn't want to see her blue eyes staring up at him in anger, or worse – rejection. But this wasn't something he could do despite how much he may want it. As much as she was Kathryn, she wasn't his Kathryn.

"I'm sorry," he managed, still staring at the ceiling.

She let out a small groan, and he felt her head hit his chest. He understood the sentiment completely. Utter disappointment. All the times he'd imagined this moment, he'd never once conceived that he would be the one to push her away. She mumbled something against his chest, and he felt safe enough in his control to finally look down at her. "What did you say?"

Somewhat shakily, she pushed back from him and her head rose slowly until she was looking into his eyes, and he knew immediately that it was Kathryn he now held at arm's length.

A frown pinched her forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Wha–" she started and stopped, swallowing thickly before she could continue, "_what_ have I…been drinking?"

"Romulan ale," Chakotay answered, speaking softly.

A small groan sounded in the back of her throat, and she gave only the slightest of nods. "Feels…like it."

Her hand clutched at his arm and he shifted his position so he could help support her. "I think you should lie down."

"No." The grip on his arm tightened. "That'll just make me…sick."

Chakotay held perfectly still, waiting. He'd made himself sick on Romulan ale on more than one occasion, so he knew how she felt, and he was sure the hot water of the bath had not helped any. He found it odd though that Katrine had shown little if any side effects from drinking the stuff, but now Kathryn was doing her best just to stay on her feet.

"How much…did that woman…_drink_?" Kathryn asked her voice sounding strained.

Chakotay glanced over his shoulder at the bottle. He winced. "Most of the bottle."

Kathryn groaned again and stretched a hand out towards the chair near the end of the couch. Chakotay moved with her, helping to slowly lower her into the chair. She kept one hand over her mouth while the other dug, white knuckled into the arm of the chair. Chakotay kneeled in front of her, wanting to help, but then thought better of it and moved to the side of the chair instead. "Is there anything I can do?"

She slowly opened her eyes and then with great care lowered her hand away from her mouth. She took in a shallow breath through her mouth. "Yes. Next time you see that bartender," she paused and carefully took another breath, "tell her…I don't have the same tolerance as she does."

He chuckled softly. "Will do."

Moving very slowly, Kathryn leaned back in the chair, grimacing as she swallowed. "Uch…I can still taste it."

Chakotay looked around the room. "Is your water ration in your bedroom?"

Keeping her eyes closed, she waved a hand vaguely. "It's in the bathroom…by the sink."

"I'll go get it," he said, patting her arm as he stood to retrieve it.

Moving quickly, he brought the water canteen back into the room only to find Kathryn had passed out. Setting the canteen down on the coffee table, he carefully scooped her into his arms and moved her to her bed, laying her on her side and tucking a pillow behind her back so she wouldn't roll over. He was relieved to see that her breathing was even and her face was relaxed. Stepping out of the room, however, he paged Tom to come and check on her. An analgesic and a detoxicant would do wonders for whichever woman woke up first in the morning, and unlike the doctor, Chakotay knew Paris wouldn't ask questions about the ale.

Kathryn probably wouldn't approve of either man seeing her in this condition, but Chakotay figured this entire day was a wash of things Kathryn wouldn't approve of. She could take her pick of things to chew him out for later. The door chimed, announcing Tom's arrival, and Chakotay's last throwaway thought on the matter was that at least she wouldn't remember the kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

Chakotay sat stiffly in his chair on the bridge. Time seemed to be crawling by, agonizingly slow as he waited to hear from the doctor. The hologram had called Tom down to assist him over four hours ago. That was when B'Elanna and Harry had felt the holodeck was finally stable enough that he could begin the surgical procedures that needed doing. Two hours later, he'd reported that he was ready for the captain, and luck had been with them that it had indeed been Kathryn that had answered her door when Chakotay arrived to escort her. Katrine would've required a lot more convincing, whereas Kathryn was, for once, eager to report to the doctor. No analgesic could completely erase a hangover caused by Romulan ale, and Kathryn's disposition towards her alter ego had been sorely tested by the previous night's indulgence.

The sidelong glances she had given him as they walked down to the holodeck together had made him wonder just how much she remembered about the previous night. She had seemed overly irritable with him, more so than he would have attributed to a simple bad night of drinking. Twice, she had opened her mouth with a stern look on her face only to close it before actually saying anything to him. He'd asked, of course, if everything was all right, and even that had resulted in him receiving a very tart response. As soon as they'd arrived at the holodeck, she'd brusquely dismissed him, muttering something about no longer needing a warden. Chakotay had left the holodeck hoping that, once her faculties were completely her own again, she would be in a better mood.

He doubted it, though. Not while her ship was still in disrepair. There were still gaping holes in the bulkheads near the holodecks. Sickbay was still in shambles, and even though the replicators had come back online that morning, ship's energy stores were abysmally low. He was also aware that the drinking had been a sharp reminder of just how little control she'd had over herself the past several days. No Starfleet officer liked to feel out of control, least of all Kathryn Janeway. Chakotay was sure that once the doctor gave her the all clear, he probably wouldn't see her for days. She'd bury herself so deep in ship's repairs that by the time she emerged, they'd probably be encountering their next catastrophe.

He couldn't help but wonder though just how much of Katrine's personality was actually programmed and how much of it was Kathryn…

"Doctor to Chakotay."

He slapped the badge on his chest harder than necessary. "Go ahead."

"The procedure was successful, and the captain should be waking up in a few minutes," he reported over the comm. line.

"Thank you, Doctor," he sighed, feeling the pressure in his chest ease another few degrees. "I'll be right down."

Chakotay arrived at the holodeck and felt his shoulders relax for the first time in days. Kathryn was sitting up on the biobed, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, and her glare set on mutinous. The only reason Chakotay found the sight amusing was because the glare was not directed at him but at the doctor, who was apparently giving his captain post surgery instructions that she didn't care for.

"Doctor," she growled, her jaw barely moving as she spoke, "you've said yourself that I have no physical injuries."

"Yes, I did," he said with more than a hint of pride in his voice.

"_Why_ then are you not reinstating me to full active duty until tomorrow?" Kathryn bit out the words in a clear and menacing pitch that had Tom discreetly heading for the doors.

"Captain!" the hologram spluttered clearly affronted. "You've just had the equivalent of neurosurgery. You can't just crawl into a Jeffries tube thirty minutes later. There could be any number of complications. Dizziness. Temporary aphasia. Memory problems."

Chakotay's head came up. "Memory problems?"

He felt Kathryn's smoldering gaze turn to him and he steeled himself before he looked directly at her. She pursed her lips, and he was surprised at the glint of humor he saw in her eyes. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Yes, memory problems," the doctor answered him. "It seems the neural interface was acting as a –"

"Doctor!" Kathryn cut off the hologram before he could say anything more. "I do believe my medical condition is a private matter that does not need to be discussed with Commander Chakotay."

The hologram hesitated glancing between the two senior officers. "Well as the acting captain he has a need to know–"

"He has a need to know if the condition impacts ship operations or security," she completed for him. "Which it doesn't, since you have me off duty for the next twenty-four hours."

"Captain, what–" Chakotay looked at her and knew he'd get no help there in figuring out what was going on. He turned to the doctor. "Doctor, what is going on?"

"Unfortunately, she has a point, Commander," the doctor replied dryly, closing the tricorder he was holding. "Her condition is neither life-threatening nor detrimental to the ship. It's her prerogative whether or not to share that information."

Chakotay's mouth dropped open. He turned back to her. "Kathryn…please–"

She heard the concern in his voice and gave in just a little. "I'm fine, Chakotay."

He rocked back on his heels and closed his mouth. She hadn't said it in her normal dismissive tone that meant anything but the actual sentiment. She'd said it as though she actually meant it, and for once he believed her. It was no less frustrating, but he did respect that whatever she was preventing the doctor from telling him was not as detrimental as he'd immediately worried that it was.

"Can I at least go back to my quarters?" she asked, returning her attention to the doctor.

He huffed, "Normally, I'd want you to stay here, but I'm sure you've spent enough time on the holodeck lately."

"More than," she quipped.

"Fine, but contact me the moment you feel any problems. Don't wait." He stepped back as she hopped off the bed. "You can read reports if you feel you absolutely must, but I want you to sleep a full eight hours tonight."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said, already moving away from him, with Chakotay falling into step beside her.

As soon as they were out in the corridor she took a left, and Chakotay chuckled, knowing the more direct path to her quarters lay to the right. She looked up at him innocently. "What? He didn't say I had to go directly there." She nodded at a passing crewman. "So tell me, Commander, how's my ship?"

The next three hours passed with Kathryn taking a tour of the entire ship and firing question after question to Chakotay as well as B'Elanna, Harry, Seven, Tuvok and any other crew member that was working on repairs that caught her undivided interest. Chakotay was more than happy to see this Kathryn come out instead of the surly one that he'd been dealing with the past several days, but he still had the one persistent concern that he couldn't seem to get past.

What had she prevented the doctor from telling him? He knew it had to be about their recent circumstances because the doctor had started to say it was a condition caused by the neural interface. But what kind of memory problems had it caused? Was it something permanent? Whatever the problem, she didn't seem overly upset about it.

"I know it's early," she interrupted his musing as they stepped out of the turbolift and onto deck three finally, "but I wonder if you'd like to join me for an early dinner."

"Of course," he nodded.

Kathryn keyed the entry code to her quarters and then tapped her fingernails on the panel when the doors didn't open. "I may not be officially back on duty yet, but would you be so kind as to turn off the security measures for my quarters."

Chakotay hastily acquiesced and the doors slid open. She moved past him and glared at her darkened viewports. "First things first." She called for the computer to reduce the opacity levels and sighed happily when the starfield outside once again came into view. "I never realized how much I took that view for granted until I didn't have it anymore."

"Sorry about that," he mumbled sheepishly. "It just seemed the easiest way."

She waved him off and headed for a container on the floor next to the replicator. "I don't have anything fancy to serve you I'm afraid, but I suppose if you're tired of rations we could go down and see what Neelix has come up with."

"I think not," he said, continuing when she gave him an inquisitive glance. "He doesn't remember his time in the Klingon simulation–"

"Klingon?"

He nodded but couldn't explain further. They were still waiting for the doctor's report detailing all the different scenarios the crew had experienced. "Let's just say he's become curious about Klingon food. I don't think the mess hall will be a safe place to eat for awhile."

"That won't help morale any," she muttered then shook her head. "If that proves to be the case, I'll have a word with him. The crew needs comfort food right now, and a plate of cold gladst wouldn't even comfort B'Elanna."

"She'd want pancakes."

"Pancakes?" she repeated, thinking she'd misunderstood him.

"Yeah…it's a long story."

"Pancakes. Huh." Kathryn handed him a ration packet. "This crew never ceases to amaze me."

"They're a lot like their captain in that respect," he commented, accepting a glass of water.

She took a seat in the chair across from him and leaned back. "How so?"

"You amaze me every day, Kathryn." She raised an eyebrow at his statement but let him continue. "Considering the mood I left you in earlier today, I thought you'd be ready to chew your way through bulkheads if the doctor didn't let you get back to work."

"Well, I admit if I hadn't taken the time to go around the ship and see everything and everyone for myself, I probably would be much more difficult to live with right now." She gestured at him with her ration bar. "But that doesn't mean that tomorrow you will find me anywhere but engineering."

"Granted."

They chewed their synthetic protein bars in amicable silence for a few minutes, washing down the bland food with plenty of water before Kathryn spoke again. "You really aren't going to ask me, are you?"

"I want to very much," he replied, not bothering to pretend that he didn't know what she was referring to. His concern for her and whatever condition she was still facing hadn't left his mind for more than a few minutes.

"But?"

"But it's really none of my business, and if you don't want to tell me then I don't want to ask and make you feel pressured."

She shrugged. "It's nothing, really. Just a minor inconvenient holdover from my nervous system interacting with that implant for so long." She gestured at the remains of their dinner on the table. "Would you mind throwing this stuff in to be recycled – oh, but leave out the glasses."

Chakotay's head whirled at the abrupt change in conversation. For one second, he thought she'd been close to telling him what was going on, but by the time he figured out what she had actually said she'd already left the table and disappeared into the bedroom. Giving his head a shake, he got to his feet and cleaned up the table, leaving only the glasses as she asked and wondering what she was up to. He didn't have to wait long to find out.

Kathryn reappeared holding the almost empty bottle of Romulan ale. "There's not much left, but I'd hate to waste it. Join me for a drink?"

Feeling a strange sense of déjà vu, Chakotay regarded her carefully. "Kathryn?"

She paused in dividing up the ale between the two glasses and looked up at him. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes. "It is you…isn't it?"

"Yes," she said, drawing the word out and scrutinizing him.

"Just checking," he mumbled and accepted the glass she handed him. He sniffed at it, not really wanting to drink it.

"Come on, Chakotay," she said, talking to him over the rim of her glass, watching closely as he brought the drink to his mouth. "After all, what's one drink between friends?"

He choked and felt the alien liquor hit the back of his throat and burn up through his sinus cavity. Kathryn began patting him on the back as his eyes watered and he bent over to try and fill his lungs with air. After several minutes passed, he managed to stand upright. Still dabbing at his eyes with one hand, he pointed at Kathryn. "Y-you did that on purpose."

His voice was little more than a croak, and she looked rather sheepish. "I didn't think you'd try and drown yourself."

Chakotay took a deep breath in and reveled in the feel of it. "Just so we're clear," he coughed again, "why did you choose that particular phrase?"

She gave him an impish smile and bit her lower lip.

He sighed, "Is that what the doctor was referring to? You remember everything?"

"No," she said hastily, "not everything. From what I've read so far I don't think I even want to remember everything, but everything after the holodecks were shut down, yes."

Chakotay felt a heat creep up his neck towards his face, and he glanced towards the door.

"It seems the neural interface was acting as a sort of dam, separating the two personalities." She moved not-so-subtly in between him and his one avenue of escape. "As long as it was in place, neither the two shall meet, but once it was removed…"

"But you're okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "The doctor is just worried about the memories all coming together at once. He doesn't know how I'll handle it, but so far it hasn't been problematic at all." She paused. "Just a bit…strange at times. It's kind of like being in a dream."

"You see yourself doing things?"

"It's not so much that I can see myself," she tried explaining, "but more that I can remember performing the motions and feeling the emotions behind the acts." She smiled and shook her head as she remembered. "And some of those acts I can never actually see myself doing."

Chakotay cleared his throat. "Like last night?"

A small amount of color rose in Kathryn's cheeks. "I was referring more to spitting in Seven's face."

"Oh," he managed. "That."

She gave him a nod. "Yes, that. I'm really going to have to apologize to her for that." Kathryn placed her hands on the top of the back of the chair and leaned towards him. "But last night was also interesting to remember."

She said the words so cryptically that Chakotay wasn't sure how she felt about what had happened. She didn't seem upset about it, but she wasn't coming right out and saying that either.

Kathryn saw his hesitation and gave a quick bob of her head. She patted the chair and stood up straight. "So I guess I owe you an apology as well."

Chakotay's head snapped up and he was surprised to see embarrassment and regret on her face.

She cleared her throat. "My behavior last night put you in a difficult and uncomfortable position. I apologize and hope that you understand my actions were not my own." She clasped her hands together, a clear sign that she was feeling uncomfortable. "That being said, I understand if you would like to register a formal complaint about it. I'm sure Tuvok would be willing to overs–"

"Kathryn, stop," he chuckled. "_Nothing_ happened last night that _ever_ needs to involve Tuvok."

She regarded him closely for a moment before exhaling a long relieved breath. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that."

Chakotay felt a grin stretch his face at the sight of her unrestrained smile. "No desire to discuss appropriate protocol between officers with your security chief?"

"I'd never live it down," she laughed, moving away from him and relaxing into the chair next to the couch. "He'd gloat the rest of the way home."

"I don't think Vulcans gloat," he argued, settling himself onto the couch.

She held up a finger. "He gloats. It's very subtle. Very _Vulcan_. But let me assure you, he gloats."

"Oh, I believe you." He smiled before turning serious. "Do we need to talk about what happened last night?"

Kathryn folded her hands across her stomach. "I assume you aren't referring to the ale."

"No, I'm not."

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I don't regret anything that happened last night."

"Y-you don't?"

She dipped her chin in his direction. "That surprises you?"

"Well…yeah," he admitted.

Her laugh was low and rough. "The circumstances could've been better and the end was rather abrupt…" she trailed off and her eyes caught his. "Do _you_ regret it?"

"What? No! I mean, well…yes, actually."

"Oh…I see. Well–"

She started to get up to move away from him, and he hurriedly reached a hand out to her knee to stop her. "No, not like that," he hastened to explain. "I just…it wasn't you, Kathryn." She regarded him skeptically. "It wasn't _you_ that kissed me last night. I mean, it _was_ you, but not really–"

Kathryn nodded her head that she understood what he meant and for him to continue.

"I wasn't sure if that was something _you_ wanted," he said, hoping she'd hear and understand what he was saying. "So, no matter how much _I_ wanted it to happen; I simply couldn't do that to you."

"You _wanted_ to kiss me?" she clarified.

"Since that first day on the bridge."

She shook her head. "But last night…you pushed me away–"

"I pushed _her_ away, not you," he corrected. "_Never_ you, Kathryn."

The intensity of his gaze left her speechless. The desire to fan herself and move to somewhere that had cooler air was almost overwhelming, but she managed with a supreme effort of will to stay seated. Trying to gather her thoughts, she had to look away from him, but when she did, her gaze fell on his hand still resting on her knee. A nervous chuckle escaped her, but she didn't look up.

Chakotay moved from his seat and crouched in front of her. His hand moved from her knee to her chin, cupping her face gently so she would look at him. "What is it?"

Kathryn blinked and then gave him a dazzling smile that reached her eyes. "I never thought that running for my life through the streets of France being chased by a Hirogen hunter would lead to this."

He flinched at her recollection and dropped his hand away from her face. "I thought you didn't remember all that."

"I don't, but Katrine did a lot of thinking while she was cooped up in here. I remember her remembering." She frowned. "If that makes sense."

"Some," he allowed. "But you're okay with everything that happened in St. Claire?"

"The events of St. Claire are so far removed from me personally it's like reading a report about it happening to someone else. I empathize, but nothing more than that." She took both of his hands in hers. "And as for what happened in here last night, I am more than okay. In fact, if you take away drinking almost an entire bottle of Romulan ale, I might even be interested in events repeating themselves."

Chakotay smiled. "Might be?"

"Well, I'd want to work on the end a bit," she admitted, leaning down towards him.

"Mmm-hmm."

He met her half way and this time when their mouths met, he felt free. Kathryn's long slender fingers cupped both sides of his face as her mouth moved firmly against his but with a gentleness he hadn't expected. It wasn't a hungry kiss fueled by the years of fantasies that he'd always imagined, but more of two souls reaching out to each other and finally making contact. The feeling was exquisite. Better than he could ever have imagined. And when they did break apart, neither of them moved very far. They were so close they shared the same air as they both took in ragged breaths.

Slowly they separated so they could see each other clearly. Kathryn's eyes had darkened, and it seemed to him that they sparked as she trailed her fingers over the lines of his tattoo. She moistened her lips. "Katrine was definitely right about one thing."

His pulse which had just begun to return to normal sped up at the sultry tone of Kathryn's voice. He had to concentrate to manage a reply. "What's that?"

"It's been a _long_ four years."

Her voice had dropped another octave and his mind flashed through the idea of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her straight to the bedroom. His voice sounded strangled when he managed to reply. "I think we've both felt the strain."

She nodded, her forehead bumping lightly against his. "I think we should take precautionary measures to ensure it doesn't happen again."

He traced his thumb over her lips feeling them tremble. "Should we start working on those tonight?"

She nodded again and stood up, bringing him to his feet with her. "The doctor did want me to get a good night's rest."

Chakotay gave in to impulse and scooped her into his arms, delighting in her surprised yelp. "In that case, it's my duty to make sure that for once in your life you follow orders."

Kathryn wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a wicked grin. "You can try."

"I intend to." He headed for the bedroom. "Even if I have to try over and over again."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure you'll succeed eventually; after all, there's a first time for everything."

~the end~

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Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!!


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